‘ 
DaGouG 
jeu 


A abaaee? 
7 oe es 
ees pars 





PRESENTED BY 
Miss Ethel Ricker 


from the 
Library of her Father » 
Nathan Clifford Ricker 
Head of the Department of 
Architecture, 1873-1911 


K6ed 
isg- 














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a 
eekly for March 7. Collier’  ONIe 
to publish exclusively in America all Kip- 
ling’s poems on. political or timely topics 
that are printed in the London Times, “The 
Settler,” like all the rest of his recent verse, 
“is political.. It devotes seven stanzas to 
echoing Joseph Chamberlain’s appeal for love 
and good fellowship between the Boers and 
Britons in South Africa. Here are three of 
the stanzas: . BA 
[Copyright, 1903, by Rudyard Kipling.] 


Here in a large and a sunlit land, where no wrong ea 


bites to the bone, 
I will lay my hand in my neighbor's hand, and to- 
* \ gether we will atone 
For the set folly and the red breach and the black 


: waste of it all; 
Giving and taking counsel each over the cattle kraal. 


Barth where we rode to slay or be slain our love shall 
- redeem unto life; 

We will gather and lead to hor lips again the waters 
of ancient strife 





ae 


ae 





From the far and the fiercely guarded streams and & vy 


the pools where we lay in wait, 


Till the corn cover our evil dreams, and the young # 


corn our hate. 


Here in the wastes and the troughs of the plains 
where the healing stillness lies, 
And the vast benignant-sky restrains, and the long § 


days make. wise— ' 

Bless to our use the rain and the sun and the blind 

} .. Seed in its bed, 

That we may repair the wrong that was done to 
the living and the dead! 





fer-Grand 
[vn Embodiment of 


f and Purity in Tone 





» of all Piano Possibility. 8 


he represented in Chicago solely by 


| SUMMY Co. 
SH AVE. 


fan Music of the Better Class. 


) ee Al 


Ss ay, 











AON RE LOTR ALN ORD OLUTION LEB OEA ER BOC | 





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| 


FO CN EPI STEN BOE ORLA NS ATTEN EAI SATO ASSIA TEAM 
. 


Departmental Ditties 
And Other Verses 


BY 


RUDYARD KIPLING 





NEW YORK 
M. F. MANSFIELD. AND COMPANY 


nS ae ee 
a e ae oe 


ae 


*- ao eee 
oo la Aer | 
oot 





“Ee 
> 


< A 
LM” 2 {8 MEO BOR 
GOO LPL h et 


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I 


\.. 


CONTENTS. 


AN OLD SONG 104 
A BALLAD OF BURIAL 65 
A Copk oF Morals 12 
A LEGEND OF THE FoREIGN OFFICE 19 
ARMY HEADQUARTERS 16 
AS THE BELL CLINKS 142 
A TaLE oF Two CITIES 155 
ARITHMETIC ON THE FRONTIER 176 
A BALLAD OF JAKKO HILL 185 
BALLAD OF FISHER’S BOARDING HOUSE 164 
_ CHRISTMAS IN INDIA 146 
CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ 187 
DIVIDED DESTINIES 161 
DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES 3 
DELILAH 28 
GRIFFEN’S DEBT 193 
GENERAL SUMMARY 5 
IN SPRING TIME 79 
L’? ENVOI 198 
La Nuit BLANCHE 54 
MUNICIPAL 44 
My RIvAL 59 
ONE VICEROY RESIGNS 113 
PAGETT, M. P. 68 
PINK DOMINOS 37 
POSSIBILITIES 85 
PUBLIC WASTE 25 


STUDY OF AN ELEVATION IN INDIA INK I0 


CONTENTS. 


THE MASQUE OF PLENTY 

THE LAST DEPARTMENT 

THE LOVER’S LITANY 

THE Marz’s NzEst 

THER OVERLAND Malt, 

THE MAN WHO CouLD Writ 
THE Post THat Frrrep 

THE RUPAIVAT OF OMAR KAL’VIN 
THE STORY OF URIAH 

To THX UNKNOWN GODDEss 

THE MOON oF OTHER Days 

Two MonrTHS 

THE GALLEY SLAVE 

THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DANCERS 
THE SONG OF THE WOMEN 

THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED HEAD 
THE FALL, OF JocK GILLESPIE 

THE UNDERTAKER’S HORSE 

WHAT THE PEOPLE SAID 

WHAT HAPPENED 


95 
48 
62 


81 
40 


72 

23 

51 
108 
129 
132 
137" 
150 
171 
179 
182 
IIo 


32 


FOREWORD. 





[is 1886 the first edition of ‘* Depart- 

mental Ditties’’—a small volume of 
about 70 pages was published in Calcutta 
and at once met with a favorable recep- 
tion. ‘‘ Other Verses’’ were afterwards 
added, making a volume of twice the bulk 
of the original edition. A review in the 
Academy (London 1888) said :—‘‘ The 
book gives hope of a new literary star 
_ of no mean magnitude rising in the Hast.”’ 
A forecast that was proven by the later 
work of Mr. Kipling. 





DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 


HAVE eaten your bread and salt, 
I have drunk your water and wine, 
The deaths ye died I have watched beside, 
And the lives that ye led were mine. 


Was there aught that I did not share 
In vigil or toil or ease, — 

One joy or woe that I did not know, 
Dear hearts across the seas? 


I have written the tale of our life 
For a sheltered people’s mirth, 
In jesting guise—but ye are wise, 
And ye know what the jest is worth, 





GENERAL SUMMARY. 


\ \ JE are very slightly changed 
From the semi-apes who ranged 


India’s prehistoric clay; 
Whoso drew the longest bow, 
Ran his brother down, you know, 

As we run men down to-day. 


‘¢Dowb,” the first of all his race, 
Met the Mammoth face to face 
On the lake or in the cave, 
Stole the steadiest canoe, 
Ate the quarry others slew, 
Died—and took the finest grave, 


When they scratched the reindeer-bone, 
Some one made the sketch his own, 
Filched it from the artist—then, 
Even in those early days, 
Won a simple Viceroy’s praise 
Through the toil of other men, 
5 


GENERAL SUMMARY. 


Ere they hewed the Sphinx’s visage 
Favoritism governed kissage, 
Even as it does in this age. 


Who shall doubt the secret hid 
Under Cheops’ pyramid 
Was that the contractor did 
Cheops out of several millions ? 
Or that Joseph’s sudden rise 
To Comptroller of Supplies 
Was a fraud of monstrous size 
On King Pharaoh’s swart Civilians? 


Thus, the artless songs I sing 
Do not deal with anything 
New or never said before. 
As it was in the beginning, 
Is to-day official sinning, 
And shall be for evermore. 


PAE POSIAROAR BLT TEL. 


THOUGH tangled and twisted the course of true love, 
This ditty explains 

No tangle’s so tangled it cannot improve 
If the Lover has brains. 


RE the steamer bore him Eastward, 
Sleary was engaged to marry 

An attractive girl at Tunbridge, whom he 
called ‘* my little Carrie.” 

Sleary’s pay was very modest; Sleary was 
the other way. 

Who can cook a two-plate dinner on eight 
paltry dibs a day? 


Long he pondered o’er the question in 
his scantly furnished quarters— 
Then proposed to Minnie Boffkin, eldest 

of Judge Boffkin’s daughters. 
Certainly an impecunious Subaltern was 
not a catch, 
But the Boffkins knew that Minnie 
mightn’t make another match. 
7 


THE POST THAT eD. 


So they recognized the business, and, to 
feed and clothe the bride, 

Got him made a Something Something 
somewhere on the Bombay side. 
Anyhow, the billet carried pay enough | 

for him to marry— 
As the artless Sleary put it:—‘‘ Just the 
thing for me and Carrie.” 


Did he, therefore, jilt Miss Boffkin— 
impulse of a baser mind? 

No! He started epileptic fits of an appal- 
ling kind. 

(Of his modus operandi only this much I 
could gather:— 

‘* Pears’ shaving sticks will give you little 
taste and lots of lather.’’) 


Frequently in public places his affliction 
used to smite 
Sleary with distressing vigor—always in 
the Boffkins’ sight. 
8 


PHEOPOSTITHAL FITTED. 


Ere a week was over Minnie weepingly 
returned his ring, 

Told him his ‘‘ unhappy weakness’’ stop- 
ped all thought of marrying. 


Sleary bore the information with a chas- 
tened holy joy,— 

Epileptic fits don’t matter in Political 
employ,— 

Wired three short words to Carrie—took 
his ticket, packed his kit— 

Bade farewell to Minnie Boffkin in one 
last, long, lingering fit. 


Four weeks later, Carrie Sleary read— 
and laughed until she wept— 

Mrs. Boffkins’ warning letter on the 
‘¢ wretched epilept.” 

Year by year, in pious patience, vengeful 
Mrs. Boffkin sits 

Waiting for the Sleary babies to develop 
Sleary’s fits, 


STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN 
INDIAN INK. 


THIS ditty is a string of lies. 
But—how the deuce did Gubbins rise? 


OTIPHAR GUBBINS, C. E., 
Stands at the top of the tree; 
And I muse in my bed on the reasons 
that led 
To the hoisting of Potiphar G. 


Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
Is seven years junior to Me; 
Each bridge that he makes he eithes 
~ buckles or breaks, 
And his work is as rough as he. 


Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
Is coarse as a chimpanzee; 
And I can’t understand why you gave 
him your hand, 
Lovely Mehitabel Lee. 


Io 


STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN 
INDIAN INK. 


Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
Is dear to the Powers that Be; 
For They bow and They smile in an affa- 
ble style 
Which is seldom accorded to Me. 


Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
Is certain as certain can be 
Of a highly paid post which is claimed 
by a host 


Of seniors—including Me. 


Careless and lazy is he, 
Greatly inferior to Me. 

What is the spell that you manage so well, 
Commonplace Potiphar G.? 


Lovely Mehitabel Lee, 
Let me inquire of thee, 
Should I have riz to what Potiphar is, 
Hadst thou been mated to Me? 
II 


A CODE OF MORALS. 


LEST you should think this story true, 
I merely mention I 

Evolved it lately. ’Tis a most 
Unmitigated misstatement. 


OW Jones had left his new-wed 
bride to keep his house in order, 

And hied away to the Hurrum Hills above 
the Afghan border, 

To sit on a rock with a heliograph; but 
ere he left he taught 

His wife the wording of the Code that 
sets the miles at naught. 


And love had made him very sage, as 
Nature made her fair; 

So Cupid and Apollo linked, fer helio- 
graph, the pair. 

At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he 
flashed her counsel wise— 

At e’en, the dying sunset bore her hus- 
band’s homilies. 

12 


A CODE OF MORALS. 


He warned her ’gainst seductive youths 
in scarlet clad and gold, 


As much as ’gainst the blandishments pa- 
ternal of the old; 

But kept his gravest warnings for (hereby 
the ditty hangs) 

That snowy-haired Lothario, Lieutenant- 


General Bangs. 


’T was General Bangs, with Aide and Staff, 
that tittupped on the way, 

When they beheld a heliograph tempes- 
tuously at play; 

They thought of Border risings, and of 
stations sacked and burnt— 

So stopped to take the message down— 
and this is what they learnt :— 


‘* Dash dot dot, dot, dot dash, dot dash 
dot” twice. The General swore. 
‘¢Was ever General Officer addressed as 

pucat es DElOLe-f 
13 


A CODE OF MORALS. 

‘My Love,’ i’ faith! ‘My Duck,’ Gad- 
zooks! ‘ My darling popsy-wop!’ 
Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, wo is on 

that mountain top ?” 


The artless Aide-de-camp was mute; the 
gilded Staff were still, 

As, dumb with pent-up mirth, they booked 
that message from the hill; 

For, clear as summer’s lightning flare, 
the husband’s warning ran :— 

‘¢ Don’t dance or ride with General Bangs 


—a most immoral man.” 


(At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he 
flashed her counsel wise— 

But, howsoever Love be blind, the world 
at large hath eyes.) 

With damnatory dot and dash he helio- 
graphed his wife 

Some interesting details of the General’s 
private life. 

14 


A CODE OF MORALS. 


The artless Aide-de-camp was mute; the 
shining Staff were still, 

And red and ever redder grew the Gen- 
eral’s shaven gill. 

And this is what he said at last (his feel- 
ings matter not) :— 

‘‘T think we’ve tapped a private line. 
Hi! Threes about there! Trot!” 


All honor unto Bangs; for ne’er did Jones 
thereafter know 
By word or act official who read off that 
helio. ; 
But the tale is on the Frontier, and from 
_ Michni to Mool¢an 
They knew the worthy General as ‘that 


most immoral man.” 


15 


ARMY HEADQUARTERS. 


OLD is the song that I sing— 
Old as my unpaid bills— 

Old as the chicken that Aitmutgars bring 
Men at dék-bungulows—old as the Hills. 


HASUERUS' JENKINS of the 
‘Operatic Own” 

Was dowered with a tenor voice of super- 
Santley tone. 

His views on equitation were, perhaps, a 
trifle queer ; 

He had no seat worth mentioning, but 
oh! he had an ear. 


He clubbed his wretched company a 
dozen times a day, 

He used to quit his charger in a parabolic 
‘way, | 

His method of saluting was the joy of all 
beholders, 

But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon 


his shoulders. 
16 


ARMY HEADQUARTERS. 


He took two months to Simla when the 
year was at the spring, 

And underneath the deodars eternally 
did sing. 

He warbled like a du/bul, but particularly 
at 

Cornelia Agrippina, who was musical and 
fat. 


She controlled a humble husband, who in 
turn controlled a Dept., 

Where Cornelia Agrippina’s human sing- 
ing birds were kept 

From April to October on a plump retain- 
ing fee, 

Supplied, of course, per mensem, by the 


Indian Treasury. 


Cornelia used to sing with him, and Jen- 
kins used to play; 

He praised unblushingly her notes, for he 
was false as they: 
17 


ARMY HEADQUARTERS. 
So when the winds of April turned the 


budding roses brown, 
Cornelia told her husband:—‘‘ Tom, you 


mustn’t send him down.” 


They haled him from his regiment, which 
didn’t much regret him; 

They found for him an office stool, and 
on that stool they set him, 

To play with maps and catalogues three 
idle hours a day, 

And draw his plump retaining fee—which 
means his double pay. 


Now, ever after dinner, when the coffee 
cups are brought, 
Ahasuerus waileth o’er the grand piano- 
forte; 
And, thanks to fair Cornelia, his fame 
hath waxen great, 
And Ahasuerus Jenkins is a power in the 
State. 
18 


PGI Or LHR WFORE!GIV 
OFFICE. 


THIs is the reason why Rustum Beg, 
Rajah of Kolazai, 
Drinketh the “‘simpkin” and brandy peg, 
Maketh the money to fly, 
Vexeth a Government tender and kind, 
Also—but this is a detail—blind. 


USTUM BEG of Kolazai—slightly 
backward native state— 
‘Lusted for a C. S. I.,—so began to sani- 
tate. 
Built a Jail and Hospital—nearly built a 
City drain— 
Till his faithful subjects all thought their 


ruler was insane. 


Strange departures made he then—yea, 
Departments stranger still, 
Half a dozen Englishmen helped the 
Rajah with a will, 
Talked of noble aims and high, hinted of 
a future fine 
19 


APLEGLHIVD (ORME L th O hi Give 
OFEI CE, 


For the State of Kolazai, on a strictly 
Western line. 


Rajah Rustum held his peace; lowered 
octroi dues a half; 

Organized a State Police; purified the 
Civil Staff; 
Settled cess and tax afresh in a very 

liberal way; 
Cut temptations of the flesh—also cut the 
Bukhshi’s pay; 


Roused his Secretariat to a fine Mahratta 
fury, 

By a Hookum hinting at supervision of 
adasturt ; 

Turned the State of Kolazai very nearly 
upside down; 

When the end of May was nigh, waited 
his achievement crown. 


20 


AVLEGEND: OF THE FOREIGN 
OFFICE. 


Then the Birthday Honors came. Sad to 
state and sad to see, 

Stood against the Rajah’s name nothing 
more.than' G,7/./£./ 


Things were lively for a week in the State 
of Kolazai. 

Even now the people speak of that time 
regretfully. 


How he disendowed the Jail—stopped at 
once the City drain; 

Turned to beauty fair and frail—got his 
senses back again; 

Doubled taxes, cesses, all; cleared away 
each new-built shana; 

Turned the two-lakh Hospital into a 


superb Zenana ; 


Heaped upon the Bukhshi Sahib wealth 


and honors manifold; 
21 


A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN 
OFFICE. 


Clad himself in Eastern garb—squeezed 
his people as of old. 

Happy, happy Kolazai! Never more will 
Rustum Beg 

Play to catch the Viceroy’s eye. He pre- 
fers the ‘‘simpkin” peg. 


&2 


wate. OL VOOR URTAL. 


‘*“Now there were two men in one city; the one 
rich and the other poor.’’ 


‘| ACK BARRETT went to Quetta 
Because they told him to. 
He left his wife at Simla 
On three-fourths his monthly screw: 
Jack Barrett died at Quetta 
Ere the next month’s pay he drew. 


Jack Barrett went to Quetta. 

He didn’t understand 
The reason of his transfer 

From the pleasant mountain-land: 
The season was September, 

And it killed him out of hand. 


Jack Barrett went to Quetta, 
And there gave up the ghost, 
Attempting two men’s duty 
In that very healthy post; 
And Mrs. Barrett mourned for him 
Five lively months at most. 
23 


THE STORY OF SORIA, 


Jack Barrett’s bones at Quetta 
Enjoy profound repose; 

But I shouldn’t be astonished 
If zow his spirit knows 

The reason of his transfer 
From the Himalayan snows. 


And, when the Last Great Bugle Call 
Adown the Hurnai throbs, 

When the last grim joke is entered 
In the big black Book of Jobs, 

And Quetta graveyards give again 
Their victims to the air, 

I shouldn’t like to be the man 
Who sent Jack Barrett there. 


24 


PUBLIC WASTE, 


WALPOLE talks of ‘‘a man and his price.”’ 
List to a ditty queer— 

The sale of a Defuty-Acting-Vice- 
Resident-Engineer, 

Bought like a bullock, hoof and hide, 

By the Little Tin Gods on the Mountain Side. 


Y the Laws of the Family Circle ’tis 
written in letters of brass 
That only a Colonel from Chatham can 
manage the Railways of State, 
Because of the gold on his breeks, and the 
subjects wherein he must pass; 
Because in all matters that deal not with 
Railways his knowledge is great. 


Now Exeter Battleby Tring had labored 
from boyhood to eld 
On the Lines of the East and the West, 
and eke of the North and South; 
Many Lines had he built and surveyed— 
important the posts which he held; 
And the Lords of the Iron Horse were 
dumb when he opened his mouth. 
25 


PUBLIC WASTE. 

Black as the raven his garb, and his her- 
esies jettier still— 

Hinting that Railways fequired lifetimes 
of study and knowledge; 

Never clanked sword by his side—Vauban 
he knew not, nor drill— 

Nor was his name on the list of the men who 
had passed through the ‘‘ College.” 


Wherefore the Little Tin Gods harried 
their little tin souls, 

Seeing he came not from Chatham, jing- 
led no spurs at his heels, 

Knowing that, nevertheless, was he first 
on the Government rolls 

For the billet of ‘‘Railway Instructor to 
Little Tin Gods on Wheels.” | 


Letters not seldom they wrote him, ‘‘ hay- 
ing the honor to States 
It would be better for all men if he were 
laid on the shelf: 
26 


PUBLIC WASTE. 


Much would accrue to his bank book, and 
he consented to wait 

Until the Little Tin Gods built him a 
berth for himself. 


‘‘ Special, well paid, and exempt from the 
Law of the Fifty and Five, 

Even to Ninety and Nine”—these were 
the terms of the pact: 

Thus did the Little Tin Gods (long may 
Their Highnesses thrive!) 

Silence his mouth with rupees, keeping 


their Circle intact; 


Appointing a Colonel from Chatham who 
managed the Bhamo State Line, 
(The which was one mile and one furlong 

—a guaranteed twenty-inch gauge). 
So Exeter Battleby Tring consented his 
claims to resign, 
And died, on four thousand a month, in 
the ninetieth year of his age. 
27 


DEEILAL, 


WE have another Viceroy now,those days are dead 
and done, 

Of Delilah Aberyswith and depraved Ulysses 
Gunne. 


ELILAH ABERYSWITH was a 
lady—not too young— 

With a perfect taste in dresses, and a 
badly bitted tongue, 

With a thirst for information, and a 
greater thirst for praise, 

Anda little house in Simla, in the Pre- 
historic Days. 


By reason of her marriage to a gentleman 
in power, 
Delilah was acquainted with the gossip of 
the hour; 
And many little secrets, of a half-official 
| kind, 
Were whispered to Delilah, and she bore 
them all in mind. 
28 


ele LIAL: 


She patronized extensively a man, Ulysses 
Gunne, 

Whose mode of earning money was a low 
and shameful one. 

He wrote for divers papers, which, as 
everybody knows, 

Is worse than serving in a shop or scaring 


off the crows. 


He praised her ‘‘queenly beauty” first; 
‘and, later on, he hinted 

At the ‘‘ vastness of her intellect” with 
compliments unstinted. 

He went with her a-riding, and his love 
for her was such 

That he lent her all his horses, and—she 
galled them very much. 


One day, THEY brewed a secret of a fine 
financial sort; 
It related to Appointments, to a Man and 
a Report. 
29 


DERITEAT, 


‘Twas almost worth the keeping (only 
seven people knew it), 

And Gunne rose up to seek the truth and 
patiently ensue it. 


It was a Viceroy’s Secret, but—perhaps . 
the wine was red— 

Perhaps an aged Councillor had lost his 
aged head— 

Perhaps Delilah’s eyes were bright— 
Delilah’s whispers sweet— 

The Aged Member told her what ’twere 
treason to repeat. 


Ulysses went a-riding, and they talked of 
love and flowers; 

Ulysses went a-calling, and he called for 
several hours; 

Ulysses went a-waltzing, and Delilah 
helped him dance— 

Ulysses let the waltzes go, and waited for 
his chance. 

30 


DELILAH. 

The summer sun was setting, and the 
summer air was still, 

The couple went a-walking in the shade 
of Summer Hill, 

The wasteful sunset faded out in turkis- 
green and gold, 

Ulysses pleaded softly and ... that bad 
Delilah told! 


Next morn a startled Empire learnt the 
all-important news; 

Next week the Aged Councillor was shak- 
ing in his shoes; 

Next month I met Delilah, and she did 
not show the least 

Hesitation in affirming that Ulysses was a 
pbeastes 


We have another Viceroy now, those days 
are dead and done, 
Of Delilah Aberyswith and most mean 
Ulysses Gunne! 
31 


WHAT HAPPENED, 


URREE CHUNDER MOOKER- 
JEE, pride of Bow Bazar, 
Owner of a native press, ‘‘ Barrishter-at- 
Lar, 
Waited on the Government with a claim 
to wear 
Sabres by the bucketful, rifles by the 


pair. 


Then the Indian Government winked a 
wicked wink, 

Said to Chunder Mookerjee: ‘‘ Stick to 
pen and ink, 

They are safer implements; but, if you 
insist, 

We will let you carry arms wheresoe’er 


you list.”’ 


Hurree Chunder Mookerjee sought the 
gunsmith and 
32 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


Bought the tuber of Lancaster, Ballard, 
Dean and Bland, 

Bought a shiny bowie-knife, bought a 
town-made sword, 

Jingled like a carriage horse when he 


went abroad. 


But the Indian Government, always keen 
to please, 

Also gave permission to horrid men like 
these— 

Yar Mahommed Yusufzai, down to kill or 

steal, 

Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer, Tantia the 

Bhil. 


Killar Khan the Marri chief, Jowar Singh 


the Sikh, 

Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat, Abdul Huq 
Rafiq— 

He was a Wahabi; last, little Boh 
Hla-00 


33 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


Took advantage of the act—took a Snider 


too. 


They were unenlightened men, Ballard 
knew them not, 

They procured their swords and guns 
chiefly on the spot, 

And the lore of centuries, plus a hundred 
fights, 

Made them slow to disregard one an- 


other’s rights. 


With a unanimity dear to patriot hearts 

All those hairy gentlemen out of foreign 
parts : 

Said: ‘‘ The good old days are back— 
let us go to war!” 

Swaggered down the Grand Trunk Road, 


into Bow Bazar. 


Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat found a hide- 
bound flail, 
34 


ye 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer oiled his 
Tonk jezail, 

Yar Mahommed Yusufzaispat and grinned 
with glee 

As he ground the butcher-knife of the 
Khyberee. 


Jowar Singh the Sikh procured sabre, 
quoit, and mace, 

Abdul Huq, Wahabi, took the, dagger 
from its place, 

While amid the jungle-grass danced and 
grinned and jabbered 

Little Boh Hla-oo and cleared the dah- 
blade from the scabbard, 


What became of Mookerjee? Soothly, 
who can say? 
Yar Mahommed only grins in a nasty 
way, 
Jowar Singh is reticent, Chimbu Singh is 
mute, 
35 


ae 
= 


WHAT HAPPENED. 


But the belts of them all simply bulge 
with loot. 


What became of Ballard’s guns ? Afghans 
black and grubby 

Sell them for their silver weight to the 
men of Pubbi; 

And the shiny bowie-knife and the town- 
made sword are 

Hanging in a Marri camp just across the 


Border. 


What became of Mookerjee? Ask Ma- 
hommed Yar 

Prodding Siva’s sacred bull down the 
Bow Bazar. 

Speak to placid Nubbee Baksh—question 
land and sea— 

Ask the Indian Congress men—only don’t 


ask me! 


36 


PINK DOMINOES. 


‘“ THEY are fools who kiss and tell,” 
Wisely has the poet sung. 

Man may hold all sorts of posts 

If he’ll only hold his tongue. 


J ENNY and Me were engaged, you 
see, 
On the eve of the Fancy Ball; 

So a kiss or two was nothing to you 
Or any one else at all. 


Jenny would go in a domino— 
Pretty and pink but warm; 
While I attended, clad in a splendid 


Austrian uniform. 


Now we had arranged, through notes ex- 
changed 
Early that afternoon, 
At Number Four to waltz no more, 


But to sit in the dusk and spoon. 


(1 wish you to see that Jenny and Me 


Had barely exchanged our troth; 
37 


PINK DOMINOES. 


So a kiss or two was strictly due 


By, from, and between us both.) 


When Three was over, an eager lover, 
I fled to the gloom outside; 
And a Domino came out also 


Whom I took for my future bride. 


That is to say, in a casual way, 
I slipped my arm around her; 
With a kiss or two (which is nothing to 


you), 
And ready to kiss I found her. 


She turned her head and the name she 
said 
Was certainly not my own; 
But ere I could speak, with a smothered 
shriek 
She fled and left me alone. 


Then Jenny came, and I saw with shame 
She’d doffed her domino; 
38 


PINK DOMINOES. 


And I had embraced an alien waist— 
But I did not tell her so. 


Next morn I knew that there were two 
Dominoes pink, and one 
Had cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian 
Vouse, 
Our big political gun. 


Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold, 
And her eye was a blue cerulean; 
And the name she said when she turned 
her head 
Was not in the least like ‘‘ Julian.” 


Now wasn't it nice, when want of pice 
Forbade us twain to marry, 

That old Sir J., in the kindest way, 
Made me his Secre¢arry ? 


39 


THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 





SHUN—shun the Bowl! That fatal, facile drink 
Has ruined many geese who dipped their quills 
ines 
Bribe, murder, marry, but steer clear of Ink 
Save when you write receipts for paid-up bills in’t. 
There may be silver in the “ blue. black ’’—all 
I know of is the iron and the gall. 


OANERGES BLITZEN, servant of 
the Queen, 
Is a dismal failure—is a Might-have- 
been. 
In a luckless moment he discovered men 
Rise to high position through a ready 
pen. 


Boanerges Blitzen argued, therefore: ‘‘I 

With the selfsame weapon can attain as 
high.” 

Only he did not possess, when he made 
the trial, 

Wicked wit of C-lv-n, irony of L——l., 


(Men who spar with Government, need 
to back their blows, 
4o 


THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 


Something more than ordinary journalis- 


tic prose.) 


Never young Civilian’s prospects were so 
bright, 

Till an Indian paper found that he could 
write: | 

Never young Civilian’s prospects were so 
dark, 

When the wretched Blitzen wrote to 


make his mark. 


Certainly he scored it, bold and black 
and firm, 

In that Indian paper—made his seniors 
squirm, 

Quoted office scandals, wrote the tact- 
less truth— 

Was there ever known a more misguided 


youth ? 


When the rag he wrote for, praised his 
plucky game, 
41 


THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 


Boanerges Blitzen felt that this was 
Fame: 

When the men he wrote of, shook their 
heads and swore, 

Boanerges Blitzen only wrote the more. 


Posed as Young Ithuriel, resolute and 
grim, 

Till he found promotion didn’t come to 
him; ; 

Till he found that reprimands weekly 
were his lot, 


And his many Districts curiously hot. 


Till he found his furlough strangely hard 
to win, 

Boanerges Blitzen didn’t care a pin: 

Then it seemed to dawn on him some- 
thing wasn’t right—- 

Boanerges Blitzen put it down to 
pe SOLtCra 

42 





THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 

Languished in a District desolate and 
dry; 

Watched the Local Government yearly 
pass him by; 

Wondered where the hitch was; called it 


most unfair. 


That was seven years ago—and he still 


is there. 


* 


43 


MUNICIPAL, 


‘““WHY is my District death-rate low?” 
Said Blinks of Hezebad. 

“Wells, drains, and sewage-outfalls are 
My own peculiar fad. 

I learned a lesson once. It ran 

Thus,” quote that most veracious man :— 


| T was an August evening, and, in 
snowy garments clad, 

I paid a round of visits in the lines of 
Hezebad; 

When, presently, my Waler saw, and did 
not like at all, 

A Commissariat elephant careering down 
the Mall. 


I couldn’t see the driver, and across my 
mind it rushed 

That the Commissariat elephant had sud- 
denly gone musth, 

I didn’t care to meet him, and I couldn’t 
well get down, 

So I let the Waler have it, and we 
headed for the town. 

44 


MUNICIPAL, 


The buggy was a new one, and, praise 
Dykes, it stood the strain, 

Till the Waler jumped a bullock just 
above the City Drain; 

And the next that I remember was a hur- 
ricane of squeals, 

And the creature making toothpicks of 


my five-foot patent wheels. 


He seemed to want the owner, so I fled, 
distraught with fear, 

To the Main Drain sewage-outfall while 
he snorted in my ear— 

Reached the four-foot drain-head safely, 
and, in darkness and despair, 

Felt the brute’s proboscis fingering my 


terror-stiffened hair. 


Heard it trumpet on my shoulder—tried 
to crawl a little higher— 
45 


MUNICIPAL. 


Found the Main Drain sewage-outfall 
blocked, some eight feet up, with 
mire; 

And, for twenty reeking minutes, Sir, my 
very marrow froze, 

While the trunk was feeling blindly for a 
purchase on my toes! 


It missed me by a fraction, but my hair 
was turning gray 

Before they called the drivers up and 
dragged the brute away. 

Then I sought the City Elders, and my 
words were very plain. 

They flushed that four-foot drain-head, 
and—it never choked again. 


You may hold with surface-drainage, and 
the sun-for-garbage cure, 
Till you’ve been a periwinkle shrinking 
coyly up a sewer. 
46 


MUNICIPAL. 
f believe in well-flushed culverts... 
This is why the death-rate’s small; 
And, if you don’t believe me, get shim 
arred yourself, That’s all. 


47 


THE LAST DEPARTMENT, 


TWELVE hundred million men are spread 
About this Earth, and I] and You 
Wonder, when You and I are dead, 
What will those luckless millions do. 
66 ONE whole or clean,” we cry, 
‘Cor free from stain 
Of favor.” Wait awhile, till we attain 
The Last Department, where nor fraud 
nor fools, 
Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us 


again. 


Fear, Favor, or Affection—what are 
these 
To the grim Head who claims our ser- 
vices ? 
I never knew a wife or interest yet 
Delay that pukka step, miscalled ‘‘ de- 
cease;”’ | 


When leave, long over-due, none can 
deny; 


48 


THE LAST DEPARTMENT. 


When idleness of all Eternity 
Becomes our furlough, and the marigold 
Our thriftless, bullion-minting Treasury. 


Transferred to the Eternal Settlement 
Each in his strait, wood-scantled office 
pent, 
No longer Brown reverses Smith’s ap- 
peals, 
Or Jones records his Minute of Dissent. 


And One, long since a pillar of the Court, 
As mud between the beams thereof is 
wrought; 
And One who wrote on phosphates for 
the crops 
Is subject-matter of his own Report. 


(These be the glorious ends whereto we 
pass— 
Let Him who Is, go call on Him whe 
Was; 
49 


THE LASTED ERARGUALLY 1. 


And He shall see the madlie steals the 
slab 
For currie-grinder, and for goats the 


grass. ) 


A breath of wind, a Border bullet’s 
flight, 
A draught of water, or a horse’s fright— 
The droning of the fat S2eristadar 
Ceases, the punkah stops, and falls the 
night 


For you or Me. Do those who live de- 
cline 
The step that offers, or their work 
resign? 
Trust me, To-day’s Most Indispens- 
ables, : 


Five hundred men can take your place or 


mine, 


50 


OTHER VERSES. 


pee a 


oe 





7 eaagiiedn sad 


TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS. 
ee ee Pere 


ILL you conquer my heart with 
your beauty; my soul going out 
from afar? 
Shall I fall to your hand as a victim of 
crafty and cautious shzkar ? 


Have I met you and passed you already, 
unknowing, unthinking and blind? 

Shall I meet you next session at Simla, O 
sweetest and best of your kind ? 


Does the P. and O. bear you to me-ward, 
or, clad in short frocks in the West, 

Are you growing the charms that shall 
capture and torture the heart in my 
breast ? 


Will you stay in the Plains till September 
—my passion as warm as the day ? 
Will you bring me to book on the Moun- 
tains, or where the thermantidotes 
play ? 
51 


| yor og 


YNIVERS 


TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS. 


When the light of your eyes shall make 
pallid the mean lesser lights I pur- 
sue, 

And the charm of your presence shall 
lure me from love of the gay ‘‘thir- 


teen-two;” 


When the peg and the pigskin shall please 
not; when I buy me Calcutta-built 
clothes; 

When I quit the Delight of Wild Asses; 


forswearing the swearing of oaths; 


As a deer to the hand of the hunter when 
I turn ’mid the gibes of my friends; 
When the days of my freedom are num- 
bered, and the life of the bachelor 


ends. 


Ah Goddess! child, spinster, or widow— 
as of old on Mars Hill when they 
raised 

52 


TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS. 


To the God that they knew not an altar 
—so I, a young Pagan, have praised 


The Goddess I know not nor worship; 
yet, if half that men tell me be true, 
You will come in the future, and there- 


fore these verses are written to you. 


53 


LAUNGI 1 EEN OA Te 





A MUCH-DISCERNING Public hold 
The Singer generally sings 
Of personal and private things, 
And prints and sells his past for gold. 


Whatever I may here disclaim, 
The very clever folk I sing to 
Will most indubitably cling to 

Their pet delusion, just the same. 


HAD seen, as dawn was breaking 
And I staggered to my rest, 

Tari Devi softly shaking 

From the Cart Road to the crest. 
I had seen the spurs of Jakko 

Heave and quiver, swell and sink. 
Was it Earthquake or tobacco, 

Day of Doom or Night of Drink ? 


In the full, fresh, fragrant morning 
I observed a camel crawl, 
Laws of gravitation scorning, 
On the ceiling and the wall; 
54 


LA NUIT BLANCHE. 

Then I watched a fender walking, 
And I heard gray leeches sing, 

And a red-hot monkey talking 
Did not seem the proper thing. 


Then a Creature, skinned and crimson, 
Ran about the floor and cried, 

And they said I had the ‘‘jims” on, 
And they dosed me with bromide, 

And they locked me in my bedroom— 
Me and one wee Blood Red Mouse— 

Though I said: ‘‘ To give my head room 
You had best unroof the house.” 


But my words were all unheeded, 
Though I told the grave M. D, 
That the treatment really needed 
Was a dip in open sea 
That was lapping just below me, 
Smooth as silver, white as snow, 
And it took three men to throw me 
When I found I could not go, 
55 


LAVIN OULD AB IA GTA 


Half the night I watched the Heavens 
Fizz like ’81 champagne— 
Fly to sixes and to sevens, 
Wheel and thunder back again; 
And when all was peace and order 
Save one planet nailed askew, 
Much I wept because my warder 
Would not let me set it true. 


After frenzied hours of waiting, 

When the Earth and Skies were dumb, 
Pealed an awful voice dictating 

An interminable sum, 
Changing to a tangled story— 

‘¢ What she said you said I said ’’— 
Till the Moon arose in glory, 

And I found her . . . in my head; 


Then a Face came, blind and weeping, 
And It couldn’t wipe Its eyes, 
And It muttered I was keeping 
Back the moonlight from the skies; 
56 


Paani BLANCHAL, 


So I patted It for pity, 
But It whistled shrill with wrath, 
And a huge black Devil City 
Poured its peoples on my path. 


So I fled with steps uncertain 
On a thousand-year long race, 
But the bellying of the curtain 
Kept me always in one place; 
While the tumult rose and maddened 
To the roar of Earth on fire, 
Ere it ebbed and sank and saddened 


To a whisper tense as wire. 


In intolerable stillness 
Rose one little, little star, 

And it chuckled at my illness, 
And it mocked me from afar; 

And its brethren came and eyed me, 
Called the Universe to aid; 

Till I lay, with naught to hide me, 
"Neath the Scorn of All Things Made. 

57 


LA NUIT BLANCHE. 


Dun and saffron, robed and splendid, 
Broke the solemn, pitying Day, 

And I knew my pains were ended, 
And I turned and tried to pray; 

But my speech was shattered wholly, 
And I wept as children weep, 

Till the dawn-wind, softly, slowly 
Brought to burning eyelids sleep. 


58 


MY RIVAL. 


GO to concert, party, ball— 
What profit is in these? 
I sit alone against the wall 
And strive to look at ease. 

The incense that is mine by right 
They burn before Her shrine; 
And that’s because I’m seventeen 

And She is forty-nine. 


I cannot check my girlish blush, 
My color comes and goes; 
I redden to my finger-tips, 
And sometimes to my nose. 
But She is white where white should be, 
And red where red should shine. 
The blush that flies at seventeen 
Is fixed at forty-nine. 


I wish Z had Her constant cheek: 
I wish that I could sing 
All sorts of funny little songs, 
Not quite the proper thing. 
ae 


MY RIVAL. 

I’m. very gauche and very shy, 
Her jokes aren’t in my line; 
And, worst of all, I’m seventeen 

While She is forty-nine. 


The young men come, the young men go, 
Each pink and white and neat, 

She’s older than their mothers, but 
They grovel at Her feet. 

They walk beside Her rickshaw wheels— 
None ever walk by mine; 

And that’s because I’m seventeen 


And She is forty-nine. 


She rides with half a dozen men, 
(She calls them ‘‘boys” and ‘‘mashers’’) 
I trot along the Mall alone; 
My prettiest frocks and sashes 
Don’t help to fill my programme-card, 
And vainly I repine 
From ten to two a.m. Ah me! 
Would I were forty-nine! 
60 


Maa rel AT, 


She calls.me ‘‘darling,” ‘‘pet,” and 
Sedear.”! 
And ‘‘ sweet retiring maid.”’ 
I’m always at the back, I know, 
She puts me in the shade. 
She introduces me to men, 
‘*Cast ” lovers, I opine, 
For sixty takes to seventeen, 
Nineteen to forty-nine. 


But even She must older grow 
And end Her dancing days, 

She can’t go on forever so 
At concerts, balls, and plays. 

One ray of priceless hope I see 
Before my footsteps shine: 

Just think, that She’ll be eighty-one 
when I am forty-nine. 


LHE LOVERSATTE ANY 


FE YES of gray —a sodden quay, 
Driving rain and falling tears, 


As the steamer wears to sea 

In a parting storm of cheers. 
Sing, for Faith and Hope are higt— 
None so true as you and I— 
Sing the Lovers’ Litany :— 


‘¢ Love like ours can never dte!’’ 


Eyes of black—a throbbing keel, 
Milky foam to left and right; 
Whispered converse near the wheel 
In the brilliant tropic night. 
Cross that rules the Southern Sky! 
Stars that sweep and wheel and fly 
Hear the Lovers’ Litany :— 


“¢ Tove like ours can never die!” 


Eyes of brown—a dusty plain 


Split and parched with heat of June, 
62 


THE LOVERS LITANY. 
Flying hoof and tightened rein, 
Hearts that beat the old, old tune. 
Side by side the horses fly, 
Frame we now the old reply 
Of the Lovers’ Litany :— 


‘* Love like ours can never date!” 


fyes of blue—the Simla Hills 
Silvered with the moonlight hoar; 
Pleading of the waltz that thrills, 
Dies and echoes round Benmore. 
‘* Mabel,” “‘ Officers,” ‘* Good-by,” 
Glamour, wine, and witchery— 
On my soul’s sincerity, 


** Love like ours can never dite!” 


Maidens, of your charity, 
Pity my most luckless state. 
Four times Cupid’s debtor I— 


Bankrupt in quadruplicate, 
63 


THE LOVERS LITANY. 


Yet, despite this evil case, 
Ana maiden showed me grace, 
Four-and-forty times would I 
Sing the Lovers’ Litany :— 


“¢ Love like ours can never die!’ 


64 


Hon AGGLAD OF BURIAL. 
(‘Saint Praxed’s ever was the Church for Peace.’’) 


F down here I chance to die, 
Solemnly I beg you take 

Ae thawissielt of F" 1s" 

To the Hills for old sake’s sake. 
Pack me very thoroughly 

In the ice that used to slake 
Pegs I drank when I was dry— 

This observe for old sake’s sake. 


To the railway station hie, 
There a single ticket take 
For Umballa—goods train—l 
Shall not mind delay or shake. 
I shall rest contentedly 
Spite of clamor coolies make; 
Thus in state and dignity 
Send me up for old sake’s sake. 


Next the sleepy Babu wake, 
Book a Kalka van ‘‘ for four.” 
Few, I think, will care to make 
Journeys with me any more 
65 


A BAILAD OF BURIAL. 
As they used to do of yore. 


I shall need a ‘‘special”” break— 
Thing I never took before— 
Get me one for old sake’s sake. 


After that—arrangements make. 
No hotel will take me in, 
And a bullock’s back would break 
"Neath the teak and leaden skin. 
Tonga ropes are frail and thin, 
Or, did I a back seat take, 
In a tonga I might spin— 
Do your best for old sake’s sake. 


After that—your work is done. 
Recollect a Padre must 

Mourn the dear departed one— 
Throw the ashes and the dust. 

Don’t go down at once. I trust 
You will find excuse to ‘‘snake 

Three days’ casual on the bust,”’ 


Get your fun for old sake’s sake. 
66 


Mea LLAD: OF BURIAL. 


I could never stand the Plains. 
Think of blazing June and May, 
Think of those September rains 
Yearly till the Judgment Day! 
I should never rest in peace, 
I should sweat and lie awake. 
Rail me, then, on my decease, 
To the Hills for old sake’s sake, 


67 


PAGETT, M.P. 


THE toad beneath the harrow knows 
Exactlv where each tooth- point goes. 
The butterfly upon the road 
Preaches contentment to that toad. 


Puen M.P., was a liar, and a 
fluent liar therewith, — 

He spoke of the heat of India as the 
‘¢ Asian Solar Myth; ” 

Came on a four months’ visit, to ‘‘ study 
the East,” in November, 

And I got him tosign an agreement vow- 
ing to stay till September. 


March came in with the 2d, Pagett 
was cool and gay, 
Called me a ‘‘bloated Brahmin,” talked 
of my ‘‘ princely pay.” 
March went out with the roses. ‘‘ Where 
is your heat?” said he. 
‘‘ Coming,” saidI to Pagett. ‘‘ Skittles!” 
said Pagett, M.P. 
68 


Meio ATP. 

April began with the punkah, coolies, and 
prickly-heat, — 

Pagett was dear to mosquitoes, sandflies 
found him a treat. 

He grew speckled and lumpy—hammered, 
I grieve to say, 

Aryan brothers who fanned him, in an 
illiberal way. 


May set in with a dust-storm,—Pagett 
went down with the sun. 

All the delights of the season tickled him 
one by one. 

Imprimis—ten days’ ‘‘ liver ”’—due to his 
drinking beer; 

Later, a dose of fever—slight, but he 
called it severe. 


Dysent’ry touched him in June, after the 
Chota Bursat— 
Lowered his portly person—made him 


yearn to depart. 
69 


PAGETT, M.P. 


He didn’t call me a ‘‘Brahmin,” or 
“bloated,” or ‘‘ overpaid,” 

But seemed to think it a wonder that any 
one stayed. 


July was a trifle unhealthy, —Pagett was ill 
with fear, 

Called it the ‘*‘ Cholera Morbus,” hinted 
that life was dear. 

He babbled of ‘‘ Eastern exile,” and men- 
tioned his home with tears; 

But I hadn’t seen my children for close 
upon seven years. 


We reached a hundred and twenty once 
in the Court at noon, 

(I’ve mentioned Pagett was portly) Pagett 
went off in a swoon. 

That was an end tothe business; Pagett, 
the perjured, fled 

With a practical, working knowledge of 
** Solar Myths” in his head. 

70 


PAGETT, M.P. 


And I laughed as I drove from the station, 
but the mirth died out on my lips 

As I thought of the fools like Pagett who 
write of their ‘‘ Eastern trips,” 

And the sneers of the travelled idiots who 
duly misgovern the land, 

And I prayed to the Lord to deliver an- 
other one into my hand. 


71 


THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL 
VIN. 





[ALLOWING for the difference ’twixt prose and 
rhymed exaggeration, this ought to reproduce the 
sense of what Sir A——told the nation some time ago, 
when the Government struck from our incomes two 
per cent.] 


OW the New Year, reviving last 


4 Year’s Debt, 
The Thoughtful Fisher casteth wide his 
Nets 


So I with begging Dish and ready 
Tongue 
Assail all Men for all that I can get. 


Imports indeed are gone with all their 
Dues— 
Lo! Salt a Lever that I dare not use, 
Nor may I ask the Tillers in Bengal— 
Surely my Kith and Kin will not refuse! 


Pay —and I promise, by the’ Dust of 
Spring, 
72 


THE RUPAIVYAT OF OMAR KAL 
VIN. 


Retrenchment. If my promises can bring 





Comfort, Ye have Them now a thousand- 
fold— 
By Allah! I will promise Anything / 


Indeed, indeed, Retrenchment oft before 
I swore—but did I mean it when I swore? 
And then, and then, We wandered to 
the Hills, 
And so the Little Less became Much 
More. 


Whether at Boileaugunge or Babylon, 
I know not how the wretched Thing is 
done, 
The Items of Receipt grow surely small; 
The Items of Expense mount one by one. 


I cannot help it. What have I to do 
With One and Five, or Four, or Three, or 
Two? 
73 


THE RUPAIVAT OF OMAR KAL 
VIN, 
Let Scribes spit Blood and Sulphur as 





they please, 
Or Statemen call me foolish—Heed not 
you. 


Behold, I promise—Anything You will. 
Behold, I greet you with an empty Till— 
Ah! Fellow-Sinners, of your Charity 
Seek not the Reason of the Dearth, but 

fill. 


For if I sinned and fell, where lies the 
Gain 
Of Knowledge? Would it ease you of 
your Pain 
To know the tangled Threads of Rev- 
enue, 
_I ravel deeper in a hopeless Skein ? 


‘SWho hath not Prudence ’”—what was it 
I said, 
74 


THE RUPAIVAT OF OMAR KAL 


VIN, 
Of Her who paints Her Eyes and tires Her 
Head, 
And gibes and mocks the People in the 
Street, 
And fawns upon them for Her thriftless 
Bread ? 





Accursed is She of Eve’s daughters—She 
Hath cast off Prudence, and Her End 
shall be 
Destruction . .. Brethien, of your 
Bounty grant 
Some portion of your daily Bread to Ae 


75 


THE MARE’S NEST. 


ANE Austen Beecher Stowe de Rouse 
Was good beyond all earthly need; 
But, on the other hand, her spouse 
Was very, very bad indeed. 
He smoked cigars, called churches slow, 
And raced—but this she did _ not 


know. 


For Belial Machiavelli kept 
The little fact a secret, and, 
l'hough o’er his minor sins she wept, 
Jane Austen did not understand 
That Lilly—thirteen-two and bay— 
Absorbed one-half her husband’s pay. 


She was so good, she made him worse; 
(Some women are like this, I think J 
He taught her parrot how to curse, 
Her Assam monkey how to drink. 
He vexed her righteous soul until 
She went up, and he went down hill. 
76 


Par MARL’ S: NEST. 





Then came the crisis, strange to say, 
Which turned a good wife to a better. 
A telegraphic peon, one day, 
Brought her—now, had it been a letter 
For Belial Machiavelli, I 
Know Jane would just have let it lie. 


But ’twas a telegram instead, 
Marked ‘‘ urgent,” and her duty plain 
To open it. Jane Austen read :— 
‘*Vour Lilly’s got a cough again, 
Can’t understand why she is kept 
At your expense.” Jane Austen wept. 


It was a misdirected wire. 
Her husband was at Shaitanpore. 
She spread her anger, hot as fire, 
Through six thin foreign sheets or 
more, 
Sent off that letter, wrote another 
To her solicitor—and mother, 
77 


THE MARE'S NEST. 


Then Belial Machiavelli saw 

Her error and, I trust, his own, 
Wired to the minion of the Law, 

And travelled wifeward—not alone. 
For Lilly—thirteen-two and bay— 
Came in a horse-box all the way. 


There was a scene—a weep or two— 
With many kisses. Austen Jane 

Rode Lilly all the season through, 
And never opened wires again. 

She races now with Belial. This 

Is very sad, but so it is. 


78 


IN SPRINGTIME. 


Y garden blazes brightly with the 
rose-bush and the peach, 
And the £677 sings above it, in the szrzs 
by the well, 

From the creeper-covered trellis comes 
the squirrel’s chattering speech, 

And the blue-jay screams and flutters 
where the cheery sat-bhat dwell. 

But the rose has lost its fragrance, and 
the d7/’s note is strange; 

I am sick of endless sunshine, sick of 
blossom-burdened bough. 

Give me back the leafless woodlands 
where the winds of Springtime 
range— 

Give me back one day in England, for 
it’s Spring in England now! 


Through the pines the gusts are booming, ~ 
o’er the brown fields blowing chill, 
79 


IN SPRINGTIME.. 


From the furrow of the ploughshare 
streams the fragrance of the loam, 
And the hawk nests on the cliff-side and 
the jackdaw in the hill, 
And my heart is back in England mid 
the sights and sounds of Home. 
But the garland of the sacrifice this wealth 
of rose and peach is; 
Ah! £612, little £77, singing on the siris 
bough, 
In my ears the knell of exile your cease- 
less bell-like speech is— 
Can you tell me aught of England or of 
Spring in England now? 


80 


THE OVERLAND MATL, 


(foot-Service to the Hills.) 


lf the name of the Empress of India, 
make way, 
O Lords of the Jungle, wherever you 
roam, 
The woods areastir at the close of the 
day— 
We exiles are waiting for letters from 
Home. 
Let the robber retreat—let the tiger turn 
tail— 
In the Name of the Empress, the Over- 
land Mail! 


With a jingle of bells as the dusk gathers 
in, 
He turns to the foot-path that heads 
up the hill— 
The bags on his back and a cloth round 
his chin, 
81 


THE OVERLAND MATL. 


And, tucked in his waist-belt, the Post 
Office bill :— 
‘* Despatched on this date, as received by 
the rail, 
Per runner, two bags of the Overland 
. Mail.” 


Is the torrentin spate ? He must ford it 
or swim. 
Has the rain wrecked the road? He 
must climb by the cliff. 
Does the tempest cry ‘‘ Halt”? What 
are tempests to him ? 
The Service admits not a “‘but” or 
an rsiites 
While the breath’s in his mouth, he must 
bear without fail, 
In the Name of the Empress, the Over- 
land Mail. 


From aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to 
Dts 
82 


THE OVERLAND MATL. 


From level to upland, from upland to 
crest, 
From rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock- 
ridge to spur, 
Fly the soft sandalled feet, strains the 
brawny brown chest. 
From rail to ravine—to the peak from the 
vale— 
Up, up through the night goes the Over- 
land Mail. 


There’s a speck on the hillside, a dot on 
the road— 
A jingle of bells on the foot-path 
below— 
There’s a scuffle above in the monkey’s 
abode— 
The world is awake, and the clouds are 
aglow. 
83 


THE OVERLAND MATL, 


For the great Sun himself must attend to 
the hail:— . 


**In the name of the Empress, the Over- 
land Mail!” 


84 


muon OLLATIES. 


ee lay him ‘neath the Simla pine— 
A fortnight fully to be missed, 
Behold, we lose our fourth at whist, 


A chair is vacant where we dine. 


His place forgets him; other men 
Have bought his ponies, guns and traps. 
His fortune is the Great Perhaps 

And that cool rest-house down the glen, 


Whence he shall hear, as spirits may, 
Our mundane revel on the height, 
Shall watch each flashing ’rickshaw- 
light 


Sweep on to dinner, dance and play. 


Benmore shall woo him to the bal] 
With lighted rooms and braying band, 
And he shall hear and understand 


“Dream Faces” better than us all. 
85 


POSSI BILILL Ee, 


For, think you, as the vapors flee 
Across Sanjaolie after rain, 
His soul may climb the hill again 
To each old field of victory. 


Unseen, who women held so dear, 
The strong man’s yearning to his 
kind 
Shall shake at most the window-blind, 
Or dull awhile the card-room’s cheer. 


In his own place of power unknown, 
His Light o’ Love another’s flame, 
His dearest pony galloped lame, 

And he an alien and alone. 


Yet may he meet with many a friend— 
Shrewd shadows, lingering long un- 
seen 
Among us when ‘‘God save the Queen” 


Shows even ‘‘ extras”? have an end. 
86 


POSSIBILITIES. 


And, when we leave the heated room, 
And, when at four the lights expire, 
The crew shall gather round the fire 

And mock our laughter in the gloom. 


Talk as we talked, and they ere death— 

_ First wanly, dance in ghostly wise, 
With ghosts of tunes for melodies, 

And vanish at the morning’s breath, 


87 


ILE BET ROTEL. 


‘““You must choose between me and your cigar.” 


Gee the old cigar-box, get me a 
Cuba stout, 
For things are running crossways, and 


Maggie and I are out. 


We quarrelled about Havanas—we fought 
o’er a good cheroot, 

And I know she is exacting,and she says I 
am a brute. 


Open the old cigar-box—let me consider 
a space; 

In the soft blue veil of the vapor, musing 
on Maggie’s face. 


Maggie is pretty to look at—Maggie’s a 
loving lass, 
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, 


the truest of loves must pass. 
85 


THE BETROTHED. 


There’s peace in a Laranaga, there’s calm 
in a Henry Clay, 

But the best cigar in an hour is finished 
and thrown away— 


Thrown away for another as perfect and 
ripe and brown— 

But I could not throw away Maggie for 
fear o’ the talk o’ the town! 


Maggie, my wife at fifty—gray and dour 
and old— 

With never another Maggie to purchase 
for love or gold! 


And the light of Days that nave Been, the 
dark of the Days that Are, 

And Love’s torch stinking and stale, like 
the butt of a dead cigar—_ 


The butt of a dead cigar you are bound 
to keep in your pocket— 
89 


LL E O BET ROL EE 


With never a new one to light tho’ it’s 
charred and black to the socket. 


Open the old cigar-box—let me consider 
a while— 

Here is a mild Manilla—there is a wifely 
smile. 


Which is the better portion— bondage 
bought with a ring, 

Or a harem of dusky beauties fifty tied in 
a string ? 


Counsellors cunning and silent—com- 
forters true and trie. 

And never a one of the fifty to sneer ata 
rival bride. 


Thought in the early morning, solace in 
time of woes, 
Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm 
ere my eyelids close, 
go 


THE BETROTHED. 


This will the fifty give me, asking nought 
in return, 

With only a Swuttee’s passion—to do their 
duty and burn. 


This will the fifty give me. When they 
are spent and dead, 

Five times other fifties shall be my ser- 
vants instead. 


The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of 
the Spanish Main, 

When they hear my harem is empty, will 
send me my brides again. 


I will take no heed to their raiment, nor 
food for their mouth withal, 

So long as the gulls are nesting, so long 
as the showers fall. 


I will scent ’em with best vanilla, with tea 
will I temper their hides, 
gI 


LE BETROPE LD, 


And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy 
who read of the tale of my brides. 


For Maggie has written a letter to give 
me my choice between 

The wee little whimpering Love and the 
great god Nick o’ Teen. 


And I have been servant of Love for 
barely a twelvemonth clear, 

But I have been Priest of Partagas a 
matter of seven year; 


And the gloom of my bachelor days is 
flecked with the cheery light 

Of stumps that I burned to Friendship 
and Pleasure and Work and Fight. 


And I turn my eyes to the future that 
Maggie and I must prove, 
But the only light on the marshes is the 
Will-o’-the-Wisp of Love. 
Q2 


THE BETROTHED. 


Will it see me safe through my journey, 
or leave me bogged in the mire? 
Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall 

I follow the fitful fire? 


Open the old cigar-box—let me consider 
anew— 

Old friends, and who is Maggie that I 
should abandon you ? 


A million surplus Maggies are willing to 
bear the yoke; 
And a woman is only a woman, but a 


good cigar is a Smoke. 


Light me another Cuba; I hold to my 
first-sworn vows, 

If Maggie will have no rival, I’ll have no 
Maggie for spouse! 


93 


THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 


ARGUMENT.—The Indian Government, being minded 
to discover the economic condition of their lands, sent 
a Committee to inquireintoit; and saw that it was good. 


SCENE.— Zhe wooded heights of Simla. 
The Incarnation of the Government of 
India in the raiment of the Angel of 
Plenty sings, to pianoforte accompant- 
ment -— 


ce OW sweet is the shepherd’s sweet 
life ! 
From the dawn to the even he strays— 
He shall follow his sheep all the day, 
And his tongue shall be filléd with 
praise. 


(Adagio dim.) Filléd with praise ! 


(Largendo con sp.) Now this is the posi- 
tion, 

Go make an inquisi- 
tion 


94 


THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 


Into their real condition 
As swiftly as ye may. 


(p~.) Ay, paint our swarthy billions 
The richest of vermilions 
Ere two well-led cotillions 
Have danced themselves away. 


TURKISH PATROL, as able and intelligent 
Investigators wind down the f1ima- 


layas:— 


What is the state of the Nation? What 
is its occupation? 

Hi! get along, get along, get along— 
lend us the information ! 


(Dim.) Census the dye and the yabu— 
capture a first-class Babu, 

Set him to cut Gazetteers—Gazetteers ... 

(7.) What is the state of the Nation, 
SLcrcic. 


95 


THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 


INTERLUDE, from Nowhere in Particular, 
to stringed and Oriental instruments. 


Our cattle reel beneath the yoke they 
bear— : 


The earth is iron, and the skies are 
brass— 


And faint with fervorof the flaming air 
The languid hours pass. 


The well is dry beneath the village tree— 
The young wheat withers ere it reach 
a span, 
And belts of blinding sand show cruelly 
Where once the river ran, 


Tray, brothers pray, but to no earthly 
King— 
Lift up your hands above the blighted 
grain, 
Look westward—if they please, the Gods 
shall bring 


96 


THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 
Their mercy with the rain. 
Look westward—bears the blue no brown 
cloud-bank ? 
Nay, it is written—whcerefore should 
we fly? | 
On our own field and by our cattle’s flank 
Lie down, lie down to die! 


SEmI-CHORUS. 


By the plumed heads of Kings 
Waving high, 

Where the tall corn springs 
O’er the dead. 


If they rust or rot we die, 

If they ripen we are fed. 

Very mighty is the power of our 
Kings ! 


Triumphal return to Simla of the Investt- 
gators, attired after the manner of Dion- 


97 


THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 
ysus, leading a pet tiger-cub in wreaths 
of rhubarb leaves, symbolical of India 
ander medical treatment, They sing:— 


We have seen, we have written— behold 
it, the proof of our manifold toil ! 

In their hosts they assembled and told it 
—the tale of the sons of the soil. 

We have said of the Sickness, ‘‘Where is 
it?—and of death, ‘‘It is far from 
our ken ;’’ 

We have paid a particular visit to the 
affluent children of men. 

We have trodden the mart and the well- 
curb—we have stooped to the bield 
and the byre; 

And the King may the forces of Hell 
curb, for the People have all they 
desire ! | 


Castanets and step-dance: 


98 


THE MASQUE OF PLENTY, 
Oh, the dom and the mag and the thakur 
and the ¢hag, 
And the za¢ and the dvinjaree, 
And the édunnza and the vyot are as happy 





and as quiet 
And as plump as they can be ! 
Yes, the jazz and the ja¢ in his stucco- 
fronted hut, 
And the bounding dazugar, 
By the favor of the King, are as fat as 
anything, 
They are—they are—they are! 


RECITATIVE, Government of India, with 
white satin wings and electroplated 
harp:— 


How beautiful upon the mountains—in 
peace reclining, 

Thus to be assured that our people are 
unanimously dining. 


99 


THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 


And though there are places not so 
blessed as others in natural advant- 
ages, which, after all, was only to 
be expected, 


Proud and glad are we to congratulate 
you upon the work you have thus 
ably effected. 


(Cres.) How be-ewtiful upon the moun- 
tains ! 


HiIrED BAND, Cvasses only, full chorus:— 
God bless the Squire 
And all his rich relations 
Who teach us poor people 
We eat our proper rations— 
We eat our proper rations, 
In spite of inundations, 
Malarial exhalations, 
And casual starvations, 
We have, we have, they say we have— 
We have our proper rations ! 


I00 


POEM ASOUE OF PLENTY. 
( Cornet. ) 

Which nobody can deny ! 

If he does he tells a lie— 
We are all as willing as Barkis— 
We all of us love the Markiss— 
We all of us stuffs our ca-ar-kis— 

With food until we die! (Da capo.) 


CHoRUS OF THE CRYSTALLIZED FACTS. 


Before the beginning of years 
There came to the rule of the State 
Men with a pair of shears, 
Men with an estimate— 
Strachey with Muir for leaven, 
Lytton with locks that fell, 
Ripon fooling with heaven, 
And Temple riding like H-Il! 
And the bigots took in hand 

_ Cess and the falling of rain, 
And the measure of sifted sand 


IOI 


THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 


The dealer puts in the grain— 

Imports by land and sea, 

To uttermost decimal worth, 

And registration—free— 

In the houses of death and of birth: 

And fashioned with pens and paper, 

And fashioned in black and white, 

With Life for a flickering taper 

And Death for a blazing light— 

With the Armed and the Civil Power, 

That his strength might endure for a 
span, 

From Adam’s Bridge to Peshawur, 

The Much Administered man. 


In the towns of the North and the East, 
They gathered as unto rule, 

They bade him starve the priest 

And send his children to school. 
Railways and roads they wrought, 


102 


THE MASQUE OF PLENTY. 
For the needs of the soil within ; 
A time to squabble in court, 
A time to bear and grin, 
And gave him peace in his ways, 
Jails—-and Police to fight, 
Justice at length of days, 
And Right—and Might in the Right. 
His speech is of mortgaged bedding, 
On his kine he borrows yet, 
At his heart is his daughter’s wedding, 
In his eye foreknowledge of debt. 
He eats and hath indigestion, 
He toils and he may not stop ; 
His life is a long drawn question 
Between a crop and a crop. 


103 


AN OLD SONG. 





O long as ’neath the Kalka hills 
The tonga-horn shall ring, 
So long as down the Solon dip 
The hard-held ponies swing, 
So long as Tara Devi sees 
The lights o’ Simia town, 
So long as pleasure calis us up, 
And duty drives us down, 


If you love me as I love you, 
What pair so happy as we two? 


So long as Aces take the King, 
Or backers take the bet, 

So long as debt leads men to wed, 
Or marriage leads to debt, 

So long as little luncheons, Love, 
And scandal hold their vogue, 
While there is sport at Annandale 

Or whiskey at Jutogh, 


Lf you love me as I love you, 
What knife can cut our love in two ? 


104 


AN OLD SONG. 


So long as down the rocking floor 
The raving polka spins, 
So long as Kitchen Lancers spur 
The maddened violins, 
So long as through the whirling smoke 
We hear the oft-told tale .— 
“Twelve hundred in the Lotteries,’’ 
And Whatshername for sale? 


Lf you love meas I love you, 
We'll play the game and win tt too. 


So long as Lust or Lucre tempt 
Straight riders from the course, 
So long as with each drink we pour 
Black brewage of Remorse, 
So long as those unloaded guns 

We keep beside the bed 
Blow off, by obvious accident, 
The lucky owner’s head, 


Tf you love me as L love you, 
What can Life kill or Death undo ? 


105 


AN OLD SONG. 
So long as Death ’twixt dance and dance 
Chills best and bravest blood, 
And drops the reckless rider down 
The rotten, rain-soaked Ahad, 
So long as rumors from the North 
Make loving wives afraid, 
So long as Burma takes the bey 
And typhoid kills the maid, 


Tf you love me as I love you, 
What knife can cut our love in two ? 


By all that lights our daily life 
Or works our lifelong woe, 

From Boileaugunge to Simla Downs 
And those grim glades below, 

There heedless of the flying hoof 
And clamor overhead, 

Sleep, with the gray langur for guard, | 
Our very scornful Dead, 


Lf you love me as I love you, 
All earth is servant to us two? 


106 


AN OLD SONG. 

Ry Docket, Billetdoux, and File, 
By Mountain, Cliff, and Fir, 
By Fan and Sword and Office-box, 
By Corset, Plume, and Spur, 
By Riot, Revel, Waltz, and War, 
By Women, Work, and Biils, 
By all the life that fizzes in 
The everlasting Hills, 


Tf you love me as I love you, 
What pair so happy as we two? 


107 


THE MOON OF OTHER DAYS. 


ENEATH the deep verandah’s shade, 
When bats begin to ily, 
I sit me down and watch—alas !— 
Another evening die. 
Blood-red behind the sere fevash 
She rises through the haze. 
Sainted Diana! can that be 
The Moon of Other Days? 


Ah! shade of little Kitty Smith, 
Sweet Saint of Kensington ! 

Say, was it ever thus at Home 
The Moon of August shone, 

When arm in arm we wandered long 
Through Putney’s evening haze, 

And Hammersmith was Heaven beneath 
The Moon of Other Days ? 


But Wandle’s stream is Sutlej now, : 
And Putney’s evening haze 
108 


THE MOON OF OTHER DAYS. 


The dust that half a hundred kine 
Before my window raise. 

Unkempt, unclean, athwart the mist 
The seething city looms, 

In place of Putney’s golden gorse 
The sickly 4adu/ blooms. 


Glare down, old Hecate, through the dust, 
And bid the pic-dog yell, 

Draw from the drain its typhoid-germ, 
From each bazaar its smell ; 

Yea, suck the fever from the tank 
And sap my strength therewith : 

Thark heaven you show a smiling face 
To little Kitty Smith ! 


109 


WHAT THE REGRET SALT: 
(June a2rst, 1887. ) 


By the well where the bullocks go 

Silent and blind and slow— 

By the field, where the young corn dies 
Im the face of the sultry skies, 

They have heard, as the dull Earth hears 
The voice of the wind of an hour, 


The sound of the Great Queen's voice :— 
‘‘My God hath given me years, 


Hath granted dominion and power, 
And I bid you, O Land, rejoice.’’ 


And the Ploughman settles the share 
More deep in the grudging clod; 

For he saith :—‘‘ The wheat is my care, 
And the rest is the will of God. 

He sent the Mahratta spear 

As he sendeth the rain, 

And the Mech, in the fated year, 
Broke the spear in twain, 

And was broken in turn. Who knows 


IIo 


WHAT THE PEOPLE SAID. 


How our Lords make strife? 





It is good that the young wheat grows, 
For the bread is Life.’’ 


Then, far and near as the twilight drew, 

Hissed up to the scornful dark 
Great serpents, blazing, of red and blue, 
That rose and faded and rose anew, 

That the Land might wonder and mark 
“To-day is a day of days,’’ they said, 
‘“Make merry, O People all!” 

And the ploughman listened and bowed 
his head:— 

“No.day and to-morrow God’s will,’’ he 
said, 

As he trimmed the lamps on the wall. 


‘He sendeth us years that are good, 
As He sendeth the dearth. 

He giveth to each man his food, 

Or Her food to the Earth. 


III 


WHAT THE PEOPLE SAID. 


Our Kings and our Queens are afar— 
On their peoples be peace— 

Go! bringe-h the rain to the Bar, 
That our cattle increase.’’ 


And the Ploughman settled the share 

More deep in the sun-dried clod :— 

‘‘Mogul, Mahratta, and A/lech from the 
North, 

And White Queen over the Seas— 

God raiseth them up and driveth them 
forth 

As the dust of the plougshare flies in the 
breeze ; ; 

But the wheat and the cattle are all my 
Cates 

And the rest is the will of God.’’ 


112 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 

(Lord Dufferin to Lord Lansdowne). 
O here’s your Empire. No more 
wine, then? Good. 

We'll clear the Aides and khitmatgars 
away. 

(You’ll know that fat old fellow with the 
knife— 

He keeps the Name Book, talks in Eng. 
lish too, 

And almost thinks himself the Govern- 
ment). 

O Youth, Youth, Youth! Forgive me, 
you’re so young. 

Forty from sixty—twenty years of work 

And power to back the working. Ay de 
mt / 

You want to know, you want to see, to 
touch, 

And, by your lights, to act. It’s natural. 

I wonder can I help you. Let metry. 

113 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 


You saw—what did yousee from Bombay 
east ? 

Enough to frighten any one but me? 

Neat that! It frightened me in Eighty- 
four ! 

You shouldn’t take a man from Canada 

And bid him smoke in powder magazines; 

Nor with a Reputation such as—Bah ! 

That ghost has haunted me for twenty 
years, 

My reputation now full blown — Your 
fault— 

Yours, with your stories of the strife at 
Home, 

Who’s up, who’s down, who leads and 
who is led— 

One reads so much and hears so little 
here. 

Well, now’s your turn of exile. I go 
back 


114 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 


To Rome and leisure. All roads lead to 


Rome, 
Or books—the refuge of the destitute. 
When you. . . that brings me back to 
India. See! 


Start clear. Icouldn’t. Egypt served 
my turn. 
You’ll never plumb the Oriental mind, 
And if you think it isn’t worth the toil. 
Think of asleek French priest in Canada; 
Divide by twenty half-breeds. Multiply 
By twice the Sphinx’s silence. ‘There's 
your East, 
And you’re as wise as ever. So am I. 
Accept on trust and work in darkness, 
strike 
At venture, stumble forward, make your 
mark, : 
(It’s chalk on granite), then thank God 
no flame 


115 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 


Leaps from the rock to shrivel mark and 
man. 

I’m clear—my mark is made, ‘Three 
months of drought 

Has ruined much. It rained and washed 
away 

The specks that might have gathered on 
my Name. 

I took a country twice the size of France, 

And shuttered tp one doorway in the 
North. 

I stand by those. You'll find that both 
will pay, 

I pledged my Name on both—they’re 
yours to-night. 

Hold to then—they hold fame enough 
for two. 

I’m old, but I shall live till Burma pays. 

Men there — not German traders — Cr- 
sthw-te knows— 

116 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 


You'll find it in my papers. For the 
North 

Guns always—quietly—but always guns, 

You’ve seen your Council? Yes, they’ll 
try to rule, 





And prize their reputations. Have you 
met 

A grim lay-reader with a taste for coins, 

And faith in Sin most men withhold from 
God ? 

He’s gone to England. R-p-n knew his 
grip 

And kicked. A Council always has its 
H-pes. 

They look for nothing from the West but 
Death 

Or Bath or Bournemouth. Here’s their 
ground, 

They fight 
Until the middle classes take them back, 


117 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 

One of ten millions plus a C.S. I. 

Or drop in harness. Legion of the Lost? 

Not altogether —earnest, narrow men, 

But chiefly earnest, and they’ll do your 
work, 

And end by writing letters to the 77s. 

(Shall 7 write letters, answering H-nt-r— 
fawn 

With R-p-n on the Yorkshire grocers ? 
Ugh !) . 

They have their Reputations. Look to 
one— 

I work with him—the smallest of them 
all, 

White-haired, red-faced, who sat the 

. plunging horse 

Out in the garden. He’s your right-hand 
man, 

And dreams of tilting W-ls-y from the 
throne, 


118 


SucTpoeAL uoyu 


Pe A 
JU}ssO}_ SPVord 


“It’s Rudyard This and Kipling That 
With Any Writing Dodge.” 


erally remembered, is Joseph Jobn Rud- 
yard Kipling. In his literary work he has 
dropped the first two names, greatly to the 
orthoepic advantage of. the remnant, thus 
preving, what ‘was sometime a paradox, that 
the part is greater than the’ whole. As Jo- 


K IPLING’S full name, it may not be gen- 


| ceph J. R. Kipling it is doubtful whetherthe 


Aneglo-Indian poet-romancer would have ar-~ 


-rested such immediate attention as he did 


under the unusual and striking and euphon- 
ious collocation of syllables represented by 
histwo last names standing alone. Napolean 


| Bonaparte attributed part of his. success in 


life to the splendid resonance of the name 
that was his» by baptism «and birthright. 
Other people less fortunate in fathers and 
godfathers have been forced to complete re- 
nunciation of patronymic handicaps in the 
strugg.e for popular Success. Thus John 
Broddripp and John Rollands: :became Yre- 
spectively Henry. Irving and. ‘Henry M. 
Stanley. Others again, like Mr. Kipling, 
needed only the dropping of the first name 
and the use of the second in full to rise from 
the commorplace to the dignified and distine- 
tive. James. B. Taylor and James B. Mat- 
thews are not names to capture the eur of 
Fame through any virtue of their own. But 
Bayard Taylor and Brander Matthews are 
almost as satisfying as Rudyard Kipling. 
When, however, Mr. Kipling. recently 
joined an Edinburgh Masonie*lodge. he al- 
lowed himself to be enrolled as Brother 
Joseph J. R. Kipling. This fact prompted the 
following lines in the London Academy, 
which may be eopied with all the more satis- 
faction ‘that the author affixes thereto the 
assurance, “This poem is not copyright.” 


Brother “Joe.” 


I chanced to bevat Rottingdean upon: a little trip; 
I met a fellow Mason theresand gave the man the 
grip; 
‘What. ho!” I said, “‘my Rudyard.’ But his look 
was cold as snow; 
‘My name, you ought to understand,’’ he said, 
“§s Brother Joe.’’ 


QO, it’s Rudyard this. and Kipling that, with 
poems, tales and such. 

And Rudyard Kipling is a name that can’t 
be known too much. 

O, it's Rudyard this, and Kipling that, with 
any writing dodge, 

But it’s Brother Joseph Kipling when he 
joins a blooming lodge. 


I went into a library to get a book.to read, 

The man behind the counter asked, ‘‘What is it, 
sir, you need?’’ 

‘1 want,’” I said, “‘the latest thing. that Joseph 
Kipling’s done.’’ 

“Go on!’ he said. ‘‘¥You’re having me. Joe Kip? 
There isn’t one!’ 


O, it’s Brother: Joe, land Joseph, when. in- 
-signias are out 








t is “assuming a more com- 
fortable aspect, seéms to>forecast a moderately 
firm money market, with no stringency and no idle 
oversupply. . 


Trading in the local stock market yester- 
day was under 5,000 shares, but prices gen- 
erally showed good improvement over those 
of the day before. The principal business 
was'in the Linseed shares and Biscuit com- 
mon. There was a lively advancein all these 
issues at the start; but-it was not all main- 
tained at the close.. Match-rose to 122 ona 
small amount: of buying. The street rail- 
ways and the elevateds were neglected. 

The American Linseed Company has taken 
over the Wright & Hills plant. It is under- 
stood that the total consideration was about 
$500, 000. 


Several of the leading commission houses }{ 


in LaSalle street report heavy cash buying of 
stocks during the past week. Investors with 
money have taken advantage of the break to 
load up with the better class of stocks, many 
of which will be taken out of the market. 
This buying has encouraged not A few 
brokers to change their position from the 
bear to the bull side of the market, not in the 
belief that immediate profits can be secured, 
but because the ultimate obutcome promises 
big returns.* J. E. Otis, Jr., takes this view 
of the situation: ‘‘The depreciation of some 
securities has certainly gone too far. I be- 
eve that many railroad stocks and railroad 


bonds, as well as several industrials, are | 


selling at a big discount, and I wish to goon 
record as having turned to the bull sids, 
Prices are scraping bottom, and the man who 
waits for the low points before buying is 
lable to be left just the same as he who waits 
for the last fraction on which to sell out. - It 
is our opinion that the cool-headed investor 


that comes in the market now and does not } 


mind occasional weak spells in prices will be 
able to pocket large profits inside of thirty 
days.”’ 

Clearings. of Chicago banks last week ag- 
gregated $151,977,847, as against $143,256,682 in 
the corresponding week last year and $143,- 
$82,784 in the preceding week this year. Fol- 
lowing is the daily record of clearings and 
balances for the week, as.prepared by Man- 
ager Street of the clearing-house: 

Clearing’s.. Balance’ 
Monday $ 26,920,853.78 $ 2,558,5° - 4 
Tuesday 26,711,455.77 2,198; 4) 
Wednesday 26,197, 139.32 1,843, 64005% 
Thursday 27,781, 646.06 
Friday . 23,675, 666.36 
Saturday 20,691, 085.98 1,570, 305, 42 


Total for week..«..)$45,977,847.27 $11,660,977.35 
Corresponding week last , 

, 143,256, 681.09 15,792, 205.68 

Gross passenger receipts. of the: West Chi- 

| cago Street Railroad! for the year (the last 

ten days of Deceniber being estimated) show 


only 


g.a bioomiMsr sone, 





ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 
But while he dreams gives work we can- 
not buy; 
He has his Reputation—wants the Lords 
By way of Frontier Roads, Meantime, 
I think, 
He values very much the hand that falls 
Upon his shoulder at the Council table— 
Hates cats and knows his business: whzch 
7s yours, 
Your business! Twice a hundred mil- 
lion souls. | 
Your business! I could tell you what I 
did 
Some nights of Eighty-Five, at Simla, 
worth 
A Kingdom’s ransom. When a big ship 
drives, 
God knows to what new reef the man at 
the wheel 
Prays with the passengers. They lose 
their lives, 
IIQ 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 

Or rescued go their way; but he’s no 
man 

To take his trick at the wheel again— 
that’s worse 

Than drowning. Well, a galled Masho- 
bra mule 

(You'll see Mashobra) passed me on the 
Mall, 

And I was—some fool’s wife had ducked 
and bowed 

To show the others I would stop and 
speak, 

Then the mule fell—three galls, a hand- 
breadth each, 

Behind the withers. Mrs. Whatsisname 

Leers at the mule and me by turns, thweet 
thoul ! 

‘‘ How could they make him carry such 
a load !’’ 

I saw— It isn’t often I dream dreams— 


I20 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 

More than the mule that minute—smoke 
and flame 

From Simla to the haze below. That’s 
weak, 

You’re younger. You'll dream dreams 
before you’re done. 

You’ve youth, that’s one—good work- 
men—that means two 

Fair chances in your favor. Fate's the 
third. 

I know what / did. Do you ask me, 
“Preach ?? 

I answer by my past or else go back 

To platitudes of rule—or take you thus 

In confidence and say:—‘‘ You know 
the trick 

You governed Canada. You know. You 
know !’’ 

And all the while commend you to Fate’s 
hand 


I2I 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 

(Here at the top one loses sight 0’ God), 

Commend you, then, to something more 
than you— 

The Other People’s blunders and 
that’s all. 

I’d agonize to serve you if I could. 

It’s incommunicable, like the cast 

‘hat drops the tackle with the gut adry. 

‘oo much—too little—there’s your sal- 
mon lost ! 

And so I tell you nothing—wish you 
luck, 

And wonder—how I wonder !—for your 
sake 

And triumph for my own. You're 
young, you’re young, 

You hold to half a hundred Shibboleths, 

Y’m old. I followed Power to the last, 

Gave her my best and Power followed 
Me. 


I22 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 

It’s worth it—on my soul I’m speaking 
plain, 

Here by the claret glasses !—worth it all. 

I gave—no matter what I gave—I win. 

I know I win. Mine’s work, good work 
that live ! 

A country twice the size of France—the 
North 

safeguarded. That’s my record: sink 
the rest 

And better if you can. The Rains may 
serve, 

Rupees may rise—three pence will give 
you Fame— 

It’s rash to hope for sixpence--*f they 
rise 

Get guns, more guns, and lift the salt- 


tax. 
Oh ! 
I told you what the Congress meant or 
thought ? 


123 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 


T’ll answer nothing. Half a year will 
prove 

The full extent of time and thought 
you’ ll spare 

To Congress. Ask a Lady Doctor once 

How little Begums see the light—deduce 

Thence how the True Reformer’s child 
is born. 

It’s interesting, curious . . . and vile. 

I told the Turk he was a gentleman. 

I told the Russian that his Tartar veins 

Bled pure Parisian ichor ; and he purred. 

The Congress doesn’t purr. I think it 
swears. 

VYiwre young— you'll swear too ere 
you’ve reached the end. 

The End! God help you, if there bea 
God. 

(There must be one to startle Gl-dst-ne’s 
soul 


124 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 


In that new land where all the wires are 
cut, 

And Cr-ss snores anthems on the as- 
phodel. ) 

God help you! And I'd help you if I 
could, 

But that’s beyond me. Yes, your speech 
was crude. 

Sound claret after olives—yours and mine; 

But Medoc slips into vin ordinaire. 

(1’ll drink my first at Genoa to your 
health. ) 

Raise it to Hock. You'll never catch 
my style. 

And, after all, the middle-classes grip 

he middle-class —for Brompton talk 

Earl’s Court. 

Perhaps you’re right. Dllsee you in the 
Limes— 

A quarter-column of eye-searing print, 

A leader once a quarter—then a war; 


125 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 

The Strand abellow through the fog: 
‘* Defeat !’’ 

‘*Orrible slaughter!’’ While you lie 
awake 

And wonder. Oh, you'll wonder ere 





you’re free ! 

I wonder now. ‘The four years slide 
away 

So fast, so fast, and leave me here alone. 

Ry, C-lv-n, L—, R-b-rts, B-ck, the 
rest, 

Princes and Powers of Darkness, troops 
and trains, 

(I cannot sleep in trains), land piled on 
land, 

Whitewash and weariness, red rockets,. 
dust, 

White snows that mocked me, palaces— 
with draughts, 

And W-stl-nd with the drafts he couldn’t 
pay, 

126 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 


Poor W-ls-n reading his obituary 

Before he died, and H-pe, the man with 
bones, 

And A-tch-s-n a dripping mackintosh 

At Council in the Rains, his grating 
SrOlrtY © 

Half drowned by H-nt-r’s silky :—‘‘ Bat 
my lahd.”’ 

Hunterian always: M-rsh-l spinning 
plates 

Or standing on his head ; the Rent Bill’s 
roar, 

A hundred thousand speeches, much red 
cloth, 

And Smiths thrice happy if I call them 
Jones, 

(I can’t remember half their names) or 
reined 

My pony on the Mall to greet their wives. 

More trains, more troops, more dust, and 
then all’s done. 


127 


ONE VICEROY RESIGNS. 

Four years, and I forget. If I forget 

How will ‘Zey bear me in their minds? 
The North 

Safeguarded—nearly (R-b-rts knows the 


rest), 

A country twice the size of France an- 
nexed. 

That staysatleast. The rest may pass— 
may pass— 

Your heritage: and I can teach you 
nought. 

‘‘High trust,’’ ‘‘vast honor,’’ ‘interests 


twice as vast,”’ 
“‘Due reverence to your Council ’’—keep 


to those. 

I envy you the twenty years you’ve 
gained, 

But not the five to follow, What’s that? 
One? 


Two !—Surely not so late. Good-night. 
Don’t dream. 


128 


TWO MONTHS. 





IN JUNE. 
O hope, no change! ‘The clouds 
have shut us in 
And through the cloud the sullen Sun 
strikes down 
Full on the bosom of the tortured 
Town. 
Till Night falls heavy as remembered sin 
That will not suffer sleep or thought of 
ease. 
And, hour on hour, the dry-eyed Moon 
in spite 
Glares through the haze and mocks 
with watery light 
The torment of the uncomplaining trees. 


Far off, the Thunder bellows her despair 

To echoing Earth, thrice parched. The 
lightnings fly 

In vain. No help the heaped-up clouds 
afford, 


129 


TWO MONTHS. 

But wearier weight of-burdened, burning 
air. 

What truce with Dawn? look, from 
the aching sky, 

Day stalks, a tyrant with a flaming sword! 


TWO MONTHS. 


IN SEPTEMBER 
At dawn there was a murmur in the trees, 
A ripple on the tank, and in the air 
Presage of coming coolness—every- 
where 
A voice of prophecy upon the breeze. 
Up leapt the sun and smote the dust to 
gold, 
And strove to parch anew the heedless 
land, 
All impotently, as a King grown old 
Wars for the Empire crumbling ’neath 
his hand. 


130 


TWO MONTHS. 

One after one, the lotos-petals fell, 

Beneath the onslaught of the rebel year 

In mutiny against a furious sky ; 

And far-off Winter whispered: ‘‘It is 
well ! 

Hot summer dies. Behold, your help is 


near, 
For when men’s need is sorest, then 


come J,”’ 


131 


THE GALLEN Sian a 


H, gallant was our galley from her 

carven steering-wheel 

To her figurehead of silver and her beak 
of hammered steel ; 

The leg-bar chafed the ankle, and we 
gasped for cooler air, 

But no galley on the water with our gal- 
ley could compare ! 


Our bulkheads bulged with cotton and 
our masts were stepped in gold— 

We ran a mighty merchandise of niggers 
in the hold ; 

The white foam spun behind us, and the 
black shark swam below, 

As we gripped the kicking sweep-head 
and we made that galley go. 


It was merry in the galley, for we revel- 
led now and then— 


132 


THE GALLE SLAVE. 


If they wore us down like cattle, faith, 
we fought and loved like men ! 

As we snatched her through the water, so 
we snatched a minute’s bliss, 

And the mutter of the dying never spoil- 
ed the lovers’ kiss. 


Our women and our children toiled be- 
side us in the dark— 

They died, we filed their fetters, and we 
heaved them to the shark— 

We heaved them to the fishes, but so fast 
the galley sped, 

We had only time to envy, for we could 
not mourn our dead. 


Bear witness, once my comrades, what a 
hard-bit gang were we— 

The servants of the sweep-head, but the 
masters of the sea ! 

By the hands that drove her forward as 
she plunged and yawed and sheered 


133 


THE GALLEY-SLAVE. 


Woman, Man, or God or Devil, was there 
anything we feared ? 


Was it storm? Our fathers faced it, and 
a wilder never blew ; 

Earth that waited for the wreckage watch- 
ed the galley struggle through. 

Burning noon or choking midnight, Sick- 
ness, Sorrow, Parting, Death ? 

Nay, our very babes would mock you, 
had they time for idle breath. 


But to-day I leave the galley, and another 
takes my place ; 

There’s my name upon the deck-beam— 
let it stand a little space. 

I am free—to watch my messmates beat- 
ing out to open main, 

Free of all that Life can offer—save to 
handle sweep again. 


134 


THE GALLEY-SLAVE. 


By the brand upon my shoulder, by the 
gall of clinging steel, 

By the welt the whips have left me, by 
the scars that never heal ; 

By eyes grown old with staring through 
the sun-wash on the brine, 

I am paid in full for service—would that 
service still were mine ! 


Vet they talk of times and seasons and of 
woe the years bring forth, 

Of our galley swamped and shattered in 
the rollers of the North. 

When the niggers break the hatches, and 
the decks are gay with gore, 

And a craven-hearted pilot crams her 
crashing on the shore. 


She will need no half-mast signal, minute- 
gun, or rocket-flare, 

When the cry for help goes seaward, she 
will find her servants there. 


135 


THE GALLEY-SLAVE. 

Battered chain-gangs of the orlop, griz- 
zled drafts of years gone by, 

To the bench that broke their manhood, 
they shall lash themselves and die. 


Hale and crippled, young and aged, paid, 
deserted, shipped away— 

Palace, cot, and lazaretto shall make up 
the tale that day, 

When the skies are black above them, 
and the decks ablaze beneath, 

And the top-men clear the raffle with 
their clasp knives in their teeth. 


It may be that Fate will give me life and 
leave to row once more— 

Set some strong man free for fighting as 
I take awhile his oar. 

But to-day I leave the galley. Shall I 
curse her service then ? 

God be thanked—whate’er comes after, I 
have lived and toiled with Men ! 


136 


THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DAN- 
CERS. 


Too late, alas! the song 
To remedy the wrong ;— 
The rooms are taken from us and garnished for 
their fate. 
But these tear-besprinkled pages 
Shall attest to future ages 
That we cried against the crime of it—too late, 
alas! too late! 


C6 HAT have we ever done to bear 
this grudge? 
Was there no room save only in Ben- 
more 
For docket, duftar, and for office drudge, 
That you usurp our smoothest danc- 
ing floor? 
Must Babus do their work on polished 
teak ? 
Are ball-rooms fittest for the ink you 
spill ? 
137 


THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DAN- 
Ci, 


Was there no other cheaper house to 





seek ? 
You might have left them all at Straw- 
berry Hill. 


We never harmed you! innocent our 
guise, 
Dainty our shining feet our voices low, 
And we revolved to divers melodies. 
And we were happy but a year ago. 
To-night, the moon that watched our 
lightsome wiles— 
That beamed upon us through the 
deodars— 
Is wan with gazing on official files, 
And desecrating desks disgust the 
stars. 


Nay! by the memory of tuneful nights— 
Nay! by the witchery of flying feet— 
138 


THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DAN- 
CER. 
Nay! by the glamor of foredone de- 
lights— 
By all things merry. musical, and 





meet— 
By wine that sparkled, and by sparkling 
eyes— 
By wailing waltz—by reckless gallop’s 
strain— 
By dim verandas and by soft replies, 
Give us our ravished ball-room back 


again ! 


Or —hearken to the curse we lay on you ! 
The ghosts of waltzes shall perplex 
your brain, 
And murmurs of past merriment pursue 
Your ’wildered clerks that they indite 
in vain ; 
And, when you count your poor Provin- 
cial millions, 


139 


THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DAN- 
CERS. 
The only figures that your pen shall 
frame | 
Shall be the figures of dear, dear cotillions 
Danced out in tumult long before you 





came, 


Yea! ‘See Saw’’ shall upset your esti- 
mates, 
“ Dream Faces’? shall your heavy 
heads bemuse, 
Because your hand, unheeding, desecrates 
Our temple; fit for higher, worthier 
use. 
And all the long verandas, eleoquent 
With echoes of a score of Simla years, 
Shall plague you with unbidden senii- 
ment— | 
Babbling of kisses, laughter, love, and 
tears. 


140 


THE PLEA OF THE SIMLA DAN- 
CERS. 


So shall you mazed amid old memories 





stand, 
So shall you toil, and shall accomplish 
naught, 
And ever in your ears a phantom Band 
Shall blare away the staid official 
thought. 
Wherefore—and ere this awful curse be 
spoken, 
Cast out your swarthy sacrilegious train, 
And give—ere dancing cease and hearts 
be broken— 
Give us our ravished ball-room back 


again. 


141 


AS LHE BELLE CLINKS 
a aC SR nan lant 


Ne I left the Halls at Lumly, rose 
the vision of a comely 

Maid last season worshipped dumbly, 
watched with fervor from afar ; 

And I wondered idly, blindly, if the maid 
would greet me kindly, 

That was all—the rest was settled by the 
clinking tonga-bar. 

Yea, my life and her’s were coupled by 
the tonga coupling-bar. 


For my misty meditation, at the second 
changing station, 

Suffered sudden dislocation, fled before 
the tuneless jar 

Of a Wagner obbligato, scherzo double-hand 
staccato 

Played on either pony’s saddle by the 
clacking tonga-bar— 

Played with human speech, I fancied, by 
the jigging, jolting bar. 


142 


AS THE BELL CLINKS. 


‘‘ She was sweet,’’ thought I, ‘“last season, 
but ‘twere surely wild unreason 

Such tiny hope to freeze on as was offered 
by my Star, 

Vhen she whispered, something sadly :— 

‘T—_we feel your going badly |’ ”’ 

“4nd you let the chance escape you?” 
rapped the rattling tonga-bar. 

‘What a chance and what an tdiot!”’ 


clicked the vicious tonga-bar. 


Heart of man—oh, heart of putty! Had 
I gone by Kakahutti, 

On the old Hill-road and rutty, I had 
’scaped that fatal car, 

But his fortune each must bide by, sol 
watched the milestones slide by, 

To ‘You call on Her to-morrow /’’—fugue 
with cymbals by the bar— 

To <* You must call on Her to-morrow :”’ 


—post-horn gallop by the bar. 
143 


AS THEMBESIICEINES. 


Yet a further stage my goal on—we were 
whirling down to Solon, 

With a double lurch and roll on, best foot 
foremost, ganz und gar— 

‘‘She was very sweet,’’ IThinted. ‘“‘Ifa 
kiss had been imprinted—? ’’ 

‘> Would ha’ saved a world of trouble !”? 
clashed the busy tonga-bar. 

“*? Been accepted or rejected !’’ banged and 
clanged the tonga-bar. 


Then a notion wild and daring, ’spite the 
income tax’s paring, 

And a hasty thought of sharing—less 
than many incomes are, 

Made me put a question private, you can 
guess what I would drive at. 

‘* You must work the sum to prove it,’’ 
clanked the careless tonga-bar, 

‘* Simple Rule of Two will prove tt,’’ lilted 
back the tonga-bar. 


144 


AS THE BELL CLINKS. 


It was under Khyraghaut I mused :— 
‘‘ Suppose the maid be haughty— 

(There are lovers rich—and forty )—wait 
some wealthy Avatar? 

Answer, monitor untiring, ’twixt the 
ponies twain perspiring !”’ 

“« Faint heart never won fair lady,’’ creak- 
ed the straining tonga-bar. 

‘Can I tell you ere you ask Her?” 


pounded slow the tonga-bar. 


Last, the Tara Devi turning showed the 
lights of Simla burning, 

Lit my little lazy yearning to a fiercer 
flame by far. 

As below the Mall we jingled, through 
my very heart it tingled— 

Did the iterated order of the threshing 
tonga-bar— 

“ Try your luck- you can’t do better!” 
twanged the loosened tonga-bar. 


145 


CHRISTMAS IN INDIA. 


IM dawn behind the tamarisks—the 
sky is saffron yellow— 
As the women in the village grind 
the corn, 
And the parrots seek the river-side, each 
calling to his fellow 
That the Day, the staring Eastern Day, 
is born. 
Oh the white dust on the highway! Oh 
the strenches in the by-way ! 
Oh the clammy fog that hovers over 
earth ! 
And at Home they’re making merry 
’neath the white and scarlet berry— 
What part have India’s exiles in their 
mirth ? 


Full day behind the tamarisks—the sky 
is blue and staring, — 


146 


CHRISTMAS IN INDIA. 
As the cattle crawl afield beneath the 
yoke, 
And they bear One o’er the field-path, 
who is past all hope or caring, 
To the ghat below the curling wreaths 
of smoke. 
Call on Rama, going slowly, as ye 
bear a brother lowly— 
Call on Rama— he may hear, perhaps, 
your voice ! 
With our hymn-books and our psal- 
ters we appeal to other altars, 
And to-day we bid ‘‘ good Christian 


men rejoice !”’ 


High noon behind the tamarisks—the 
sun is hot above us— 
As at Home the Christmas Day is 
breaking wan. 
They will drinks our healths at dinner— 
those who tell us how they love us, 


147 


CHRISTMAS IN INDIA. 


And forget us till another year be gone! 

Oh the toil that knows no breaking ! 
Oh the hezmweh, ceaseless, aching! 

Oh the black dividing Sea and alien 
Plain ! 

Youth was cheap—wherefore we sold 
it. 

Gold was good—we hope to hold it, 

And to-day we know the fulness of 
our gain. 


Gray dusk behind the tamarisks—the 
parrots fly together— 
As the Sun is sinking slowly over 
Home ; 
And his last ray seems to mock us shack- 
led in a lifelong tether 
That drags us back howe’er so far we 
roam. 
Hard her service, poor her payment 
—shein ancient, tattered raiment— 


148 


CHRISTMAS IN INDIA. 


India, she the grim Stepmother of 
our kind. 

If a year of life be lent her, if her 
temple’s shrine we enter, 

The door is shut—we may not look 
behind. 


Black night behind the tamarisks—the 
owls begin their chorus— 
As the conches from the temple scream 
and bray. 
With the fruitless years behind us and 
the hopeless years before us, 
Let us honor, oh my brothers, Christ- 
mas Day ! 
Call a truce then, to our labors—let us 
feast with friends and neighbors, 
And be merry as the custom of our 
caste ; 
For, if ‘‘ faint and forced the laughter,’”’ 
and if sadness follow after, 
We are richer by one mocking Christ- 
mas past. 


149 


THE SONG OF THE WOMEN. 


(Lady Dufferin’s Fund for medical aid to the Women 
of India.) 


OW shall she know the worship 
we would do her? 
The walls are high and she is very far. 
How shall the women’s message reach 
unto her 
Above the tumult of the packed bazar? 
Free wind of March, against the 
lattice blowing, 
Bear thou our thanks lest she depart 
unknowing. 


Go forth across the fields we may not 
roam in, 
Go forth beyond the trees that rim the 
city 
To whatsoe’er fair place she hath her 
home in, 
Who dowered us with wealth of love 
and pity, 


150 


THE SONG OF THE WOMEN. 


Out of our shadow pass, and seek 
her singing— 
“‘T have no gifts but Love alone for 
bringing.” 


Say that we be a feeble folk who greet 
ber, 
But old in grief, and very wise in tears; 
Say that we, being desolate, entreat her 
That she forget us not in after years; 
For we have seen the light, and it 
were grievous 
To dim that dawning if our lady 
leave us. 


By life that ebbed with none to stanch 
the failing, 
By Love’s sad harvest garnered in the 
spring, 
When Love in ignorance wept unavailing 


I5I 


THE SONG OF THE WOMEN. 


O’er young buds dead before their 
blossoming ; 
By all the gray owl watched, the 
pale moon viewed, 
In past grim years, declare our 
gratitude ! 


By hands uplifted to the Gods that heard 
not, 
By gifts that found no favor in their 
sight, 
By faces bent above the babe that stirred 
not, 
By nameless horrors of the stifling 
night ; 
By ills foredone, by peace her toils 
discover, 
Bid Earth be good beneath and 
Heaven above her ! 


152 


THE SONG OF THE WOMEN. 


If she have sent her servants in our pain, 
If she have fought with Death and 
dulled his sword ; 
If she have given back our sick again, 
And to the breast the weakling lips 
restored, 
Is it a little thing that she has 
wrought ? 
Then Life and Death and Mother- 
hood be naught. 


Go forth, O wind, our message on thy 
wings, 
And they shall hear thee pass and bid 
thee speed, 
In reed—roofed hut, or white-walled 
home of kings, 
Who have been helpen by her in their 
need. 
All spring shall give thee fragrance, 
and the wheat 


153 


THE SONG OF THE WOMEN. 


Shall be a tasselled floor-cloth to thy 
feet. 


Haste, for our hearts are with thee, take 
no rest ! 
Loud-voiced ambassador, from sea to 
sea 
Proclaim the blessing, manifold, confest, 
Of those in darkness by her hand set 
free, 
Then very softly to her presence 
move, 
And whisper ‘‘ Lady, lo, they know 
and love! ’’ 


154 


Me LALE OF TWO. CITIES, 


HERE the sober-coulored cultiva- 
tor smiles 
On his dyles ; 
Where the cholera, the cyclone, and the 
crow 
Come and go; 
Where the merchant deals in indigo and 
and tea 
Hides and giz, 
Where the Babu drops inflammatory hints 
In his prints; 
Stands a City—Charnock chose it—pack- 
ed away 
Near a Bay— 
By the sewage rendered fetid, by the 
sewer 
Made impure, 
By the Sunderbunds unwholesome, by 
the swamp 
Moist and damp ; 


155 


A TALE OR NTWOWCIHLS. 


And the City and the Viceroy, as we 
see, 
Don’t agree. 


Once, two hundred years ago, the trader 
came 
Meek and tame. 
Where his timid foot first halted, there 
he stayed, 
Till mere trade 
Grew to Empire, and he sent his armies 
forth } 
South and North 
Till the country from Peshawar to Ceylon 
Was his own. ! 
Thus the mid-day halt of Charnock— 
more’s the pity ! 
Grew a City. 
As the fungus sprouts chaotic from its 
bed, 
So it spread— 
156 


A TALE OF TWO CITIES. 


Chance-directed, chance-erected, laid and 
built 
On the silt— 
Palace, byre, hovel—poverty and pride— 
Side by side ; 
And, above the packed and pestilential 
town, 
Death looked down. 


But the Rulers in that City by the Sea 
Turned to flee— 
Fled, with each returning spring-tide 
from its ills 
To the Hills. 
From the clammy fogs of morning, from 
the blaze 
Of the days, 
From the sickness of the noontide, from 
the heat, 
Beat retreat ; 


157 


A TALE OR LWOIGTTIES: 


For the country from Peshawar to Ceylon 
Was their own. 
But the Merchant risked the perils of the 
Plain 
For his gain. 
Now the resting-place of Charnock, 
’neath the palms, 
Asks an alms, 
And the burden of its lamentation is, 
Briefly, this :— 
‘‘Because, for certain months, we boil 
and stew, 
So should you. 


“Cast the Viceroy and his Council, to 
perspire 
_In our fire!” 
And for answer to the argument, in vain 
We explain 
That an amateur Saint Lawrence cannot 
cry :— 
158 


A TALE OF TWO CITIES. 


‘41 must fry !”’ 
That the Merchant risks the peril of the 
Plain 
For his gain. 
Nor can Rulers rule a house that men 
grow rich in, 
From its kitchen. 
Let the Babu drop inflammatory hints 
In his prints ; 
And mature—consistent soul—his plan 
for stealing 
To Darjeeling : 
Let the Merchant seek, who makes his 
silver pile, 


England’s isle ; 
Let the City Charnock pitched on—evil 
day !— 
Go Her way. 
Though the argosies of Asia at Her 
doors 


Heap their stores, 
159 


A TALESORVTWVORG/IIES: 


Though Her enterprise and energy 
secure 
Income sure, 
Though ‘‘out-station orders punctually 
obeyed ’’ ot") 
Swell Her trade— 
Stil, for rule, administration, and the 
FeESL 
Simla’s best. 


160 


DIVIDED DESTINIES. 





T was an artless Bandar, and he danced 

upon a pine, 

And much I wondered how he lived, and 
where the beast might dine, 

And many, many other things, till o’er 
my morning smoke, 

I slept the sleep of idleness and dreamt 
that Bandar spoke, 


He said:— ‘‘Oh man of many clothes! 
sad crawler on the Hills ! 

Observe, I know not Ranken’s shop, nor 
Ranken’s monthly bills ! 

I take no heed to trousers or the coats 
that you call dress; 

Nor am I plagued with little cards for 
little drinks at Mess. 


“I steal the bunnia’s grain at morn, at 
noon and eventide, 
161 


DIVIDED DESTINIES. 


(For he is fat and I am spare), I roam 
the mountain side, 

I follow no man’s carriage, and no, never 
in my life 

Have I flirted at Peliti’s with another 
Bandar s wife. 


‘‘O man of futile fopperies—unnecessary 
wraps ; 

I own no ponies in the hills, I drive no 
tall-wheeled traps ; 

I buy me not twelve-button gloves, ‘short- 
sixes’ eke, or rings, 

Nor do I waste at Hamilton’s my wealth 
on ‘pretty things.’ 


‘I quarrel with my wife at home, we, 
never fight abroad ; 

But Mrs, B. has grasped the fact I am 
her only lord, 


162 


DIVIDED DESTINIES. 


I never heard of fever—dumps nor debts 
depress my soul ; 

And I pity and despise you!’’ Here he 
pouched my breakfast-roll, 


His hide was very mangy, and his face 
was very red, 

And ever and anon he scratched with 
energy his head. 

His manners were not always nice, but 
how my spirits cried 

To be an artless Bandar loose upon the 
mountain side ! 


So I answered: ‘‘Gentle Bandar, an 
inscrutable Decree 

Makes theea gleesome fleasome Thou, and 
ine a wretched Me. 

Go! Depart in peace, my brother, to thy 
home amid the pine ; 

Yet forget not once a mortal wished to 
change his lot with thine.’’ 

163 


BALLAD OF FISHERS BOARD- 
ING-HOUSE. 


THAT night, when through the mooring chains 
The wide-eyed corpse rolled free, 
To blunder down by Garden Reach 
And rot at Kedgeree, 
The tale the Hughii told the shoal 
The lean shoal told to me. 
*EXWAS Fultah Fisher’s boarding- 
house 
Where sailor-men reside, 
And there were men of all the ports 
From Mississip to Clyde, 
And regally they spat and smoked, 


And fearsomely they lied. 


They lied about the purple Sea 
That gave them scanty bread, 
They lied about the Earth beneath, 

The Heavens overhead, 
For they had looked too often on 
Black rum when that was red. 


164 


BALLAD OF FISHERS BOARD- 
ING-HOUSE. 


They told their tales of wreck and wrong, 
Of shame and lust and fraud, 
They backed their toughest statements 
with 
The Brimstone of the Lord. 
And crackling oaths went to and fro 
Across the fist-banged board. 


And there was Hans the blue-eyed Dane, 
Bull-throated, bare of arm, 

Who carried on his hairy chest 
The maid Ultruda’s charm— 

The little silver crucifix 


That keeps a man from harm, 


And there was Jake Without-the-Ears, 
And Pamba the Malay, 
And Carboy Gin the Guinea cook, 
And Luz from Vigo Bay, 
And Honest Jack who sold them slops 
And harvested their pay. 
165 


BAIIAD OF FISHER'S BOARD- 
ING-HOUSE. 


And there was Salem Hardieker, 
A lean Bostonian he— 

Russ, German, English, Halfbreed, Finn, 
Yank, Dane, and Portugee, 

At Fultah Fisher’s boarding-house 
‘They rested from the sea. 


Now Anne of Austria shared their drinks, 
Collinga knew her fame, 

From Tarnau in Galicia 
To Jaun Bazar she came, 

To eat the bread of infamy 
And take the wage of shame. 


She held a dozen men to heel— 
Rich spoil of war was hers, 
In hose and gown and ring and chain, 
From twenty mariners, 
And, by Port Law, that week, men called 
Her Salem Hardieker’s. 
166 


BALLAD OF FISHERS BOARD- 
ING-HOUSE. 


But seamen learnt— what landsmen 
know— 
That neither gifts nor gain 
Can hold a winking Light o’ Love 
Or Fancy’s flight restrain, 
When Anne of Austria rolled her eyes 
On Hans the blue-eyed Dane. 


Since Life is strife, and strife means 
knife, 
From Howrah to the Bay, 
And he may die before the dawn 
Who liquored out the day, 
In Fultah Fisher’s boarding-house 
We woo while yet we may. 


But cold was Hans the blue-eyed Dane, 
Bull-throated, bare of arm, 

And laughter shook the chest beneath 
The maid Ultruda’s charm— 


167 


BALLAD OF FISHERS BOARD- 
ING-HOUSE. 


The little silver crucifix 
That keeps a man from harm. 


“Vou speak to Salem Hardieker, 
You was his girl, I know. 

I ship mineselfs to-morrow, see, 
Und round the Skaw we go, 

South, down the Cattegat, by Hjelm, 
To Besser in Saro.” 


When love rejected turns to hate, 
All ill betide the man. 
* You speak to Salem Hardieker,”— 
She spoke as woman can. 
A scream—a sob—‘‘He called me— 
names!” 
And then the fray began. 


An oath from Salem Hardieker, 
A shriek upon the stairs, 
168 


BALLAD OF FISHERS BOARD- 
ING-HOUSE. 


A dance of shadows on the wall, 
A knife-thrust unawares— 

And Hans came down, as cattle drop, 
Across the broken chairs. 


In Anne of Austria’s trembling hands 
The weary head fell low :— 

‘<I ship mineselfs to-morrow, straight 
For Besser in Saro: 

Und there Ultruda comes to me 
At Easter, und I go 


‘‘South, down the Cattegat— What's 
here? 
There—are—no—lights—to—guide!” 
The mutter ceased, the spirit passed, 
And Anne of Austria cried 
In Fultah Fisher’s boarding-house 
When Hans the mighty died. 
169 


BALLAD OF FISHERS BOARD- 
ING-HOUSE. 
Thus slew they Hans the blue-eyed Dane, 
Bull-throated, bare of arm, 
But Anne of Austria looted first 
The maid Ultruda’s charm— 
The little silver crucifix 
That keeps a man from harm. 


170 


THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED 
HEAD. 


HERE'S a widow in sleepy Chester 
Who weeps for her only son; 
There's a grave on the Pabeng River, 
A grave that the Burmans shun, 
And theres Subadar Prag Tewarrt 
Who tells how the work was done, 


A Snider squibbed in the jungle, 
Somebody laughed and fled, 

And the men of the First Shikaris 
Picked up their Subaltern dead, 

With a big blue mark in his forehead 
And the back blown out of his head. 


Subadar Prag Tewarri, 
Jemadar Hira Lal, 

Took command of the party, 
Twenty rifles in all, 

Marched them down to the river 
As the day was beginning to fall. 


Tr 


THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED 
HEAD, 
They buried the boy by the river, 
A blanket over his face— 
They wept for their dead Lieutenant, 
The men of an alien race- 
They made a samddh in his honor, 


A mark for his resting-place. 


For they swore by the Holy Water, 
They swore by the salt they ate, 
That the soul of Lieutenant Eshmitt 
Sahib 
Should go to his God in state; 
With fifty file of Burman 
To open him Heaven’s gate. 


The men of the First Shikaris 
Marched till the break of day 
Till they came to the rebel village, 
The village of Pabengmay— 

A jingal covered the clearing, 
Calthrops hampered the way. 


ee 
ES 


THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED 
HEAD. 


Subadar Prag Tewarri, 
Bidding them load with ball, 
Halted a dozen rifles 
Under the village wall; 
Sent out a flanking-party 
With Jemadar Hira Lal. 


The men of the First Shikaris 
Shouted and smote and slew, 

Turning the grinning jingal 
On to the howling crew. 

The Jemadar’s flanking-party 
Butchered the folk who flew. 


Long was the morn of slaughter, 
Long was the list of slain, 
Five score heads were taken, 
Five score heads and twain; 
And the men of the First Shikaris 
Went back to their grave again, 
173 


THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED 
le ea et ee ee OREN nee Bet 
HEAD, 


Each man bearing a basket 





Red as his palms that day, 

Red as the blazing village— 
The village of Pabengmay, 

And the ‘‘drip-drip-drip” from the baskets 
Reddened the grass by the way. 


They made a pile of their trophies 
High asa tall man’s chin, 
Head upon head distorted, 
Set in a sightless grin, 
Anger and pain and terror 
Stamped on the smoke-scorched skin. 


Subadar Prag Tewarri 
Put the head of the Boh 
On the top of the mound of triumph, 
The head of his son below, 
With the sword and the peacock-banner 
That the world might behold and know. 
174 


THE GRAVE OF THE HUNDRED 
HEAD. 


Thus the samddh was perfect, 





Thus was the lesson plain 
Of the wrath of the First Shikaris— 
The price of a white man slain; 
And the men of the First Shikaris 
Went back into camp again. 


Then a silence came to the river, 
A hush fell over the shore, 
And Bohs that were brave departed, 
And Sniders squibbed no more; 
For the Burmans said 
That a ullah’s head 
Must be paid for with heads five score. 


There's a widow tn sleepy Chester 
Who weeps for her only son; 
There's a grave on the Pabeng River, 
A grave that the Burmans shun, 
And there's Subadar Prag Tewarrt 
Who tells how the work was done, 
175 


ARITHMETIC (VON WIE FRONG 
LIER. 





GREAT and glorious thing it is 
To learn, for seven years or so, 
The Lord knows what of that and this, 
Ere reckoned fit to face the foe— 
The flying bullet down the Pass, 
That whistles clear: ‘All flesh is 


grass,” 


Three hundred pounds per annum spent 
On making brain and body meeter 
For all the murderous intent 
Comprised in ‘‘ villainous saltpetre! ” 
And after—ask the Yusufzaies 


What comes of all our ’ologies. 


A scrimmage in a Border Station— 
A canter down some dark defile— 

Two thousand pounds of education 
Drops to a ten-rupee jezail— 


176 


ARITHMETIC ON THE FRON- 
TIER. 


The Crammer’s boast, the Squadron’s 





pride, 
Shot like a rabbit in a ride! 


No proposition Euclid wrote, 
No formule the text-books know, 
Will turn the bullet from your coat, 
Or ward the tulwar’s downward 
blow. 
Strike hard who cares—shoot straight who 
can— 
The odds are on the cheaper man. 


One sword-knot stolen from the camp 
Will pay for all the school expenses 
Of any Kurrum Valley scamp 
Who knows no word or moods and 
tenses, 
But, being blessed with perfect sight, 
Picks off our messmates left and right. 
177 


ARITHMETIC ON THE FRON- 
Tih. 
With home-bred hordes the _hill-sides 
teem, 

The troop-ships bring us one by one, 
At vast expense of time and steam, 

To slay Afridis where they run, 
The ‘‘ captives of our bow and spear” 
Are cheap—alas! as we are dear. 


178 


Bare PALL OF JOCK GILLESPIE. 


HIS fell when dinner-time was done— 
*Twixt the first an’ the second rub— 
That oor mon Jock cam’ hame again 
To his rooms ahint the Club. 


An’ syne he laughed, an’ syne he sang, 
An’ syne we thocht him fou, 

An’ syne he trumped his partner’s trick, 
An’ garred his partner rue. 


Then up and spake an elder mon, 
That held the Spade its Ace— 
‘*God save the lad! Whence comes the 
licht 
That wimples on his face ?” 


An’ Jock he sniggered, an’ Jock he 
smiled, 
An’ ower the card-brim wunk :— 
‘I’m a’ too fresh fra’ the stirrup-peg, 
May be that I am drunk.” 
179 


THE FALL OF JOCK GILLESPIE. 


‘‘There’s whusky brewed in Galashiels, 
An'L. Ue torbye= 

But never liquor lit the low 
That keeks fra’ oot your eye. 


‘‘ There’s a thrid o’ hair on your dress- 
coat breast, 
Aboon the heart a wee?” 
‘‘Oh! that is fra’ the lang-haired Skye 
That slobbers ower me.” 


‘Oh! lang-haired Skyes are lovin’ 
beasts, | 
An’ terrier dogs are fair, 
But never yet was terrier born 
Wi’ ell-lang gowden hair! 


‘¢There’s a smirch o’ pouther on your 
_ breast, 
Below the left lappel ?” 
‘*Oh! that is fra’ my auld cigar, 
Whenas the stump-end fell.” 


180 


THE FALL OF. JOCK GILLESPIE. 


‘¢ Mon Jock, ye smoke the Trichi coarse, 
For ye are short o’ cash, 

An’ best Havanas couldna leave 
Sae white an’ pure an ash. 


‘¢ This nicht ye stopped a story braid, 
An’ stopped it wi’ a curse— 

Last nicht ye told that tale yoursel, 
An’ capped it wi’ a worse! 


‘‘Oh! we’re no fou! Oh! we’re no fou! 
But plainly we can ken 

Ye’re fallin’, fallin’, fra’ the band 
O’ cantie single men!” 

An’ it fell when szrris-shaws were sere, 
An’ the nichts were lang and mirk, 
In braw new breeks, wi’ a gowden ring, 

Oor Jockie gaed to the Kirk. 


181 


THE UNDERTAKER'S HORSE. 








‘* TO-TSCHIN-SHU is condemned todeath. Howcan 
he ae tea with the Executioner ?’’—/apanese Pro- 
verb. 


HE eldest son bestrides him, 
And the pretty daughter rides him, 
And I meet him oft o’ mornings onthe 
Course; 
And there wakens in my bosom 
Anemotion chill and gruesome 


As I canter past the Undertaker’s Horse. 


Neither shies he nor is restive, 

But a hideously suggestive 

Trot, professional and placid, he affects; 

And the cadence of his hoof-beats 

To my mind, this grim reproof beats:— 

‘‘ Mend your pace, my friend, I’m com- 
ing. Who’s the next ?” 


Ah! stud-bred of ill-omen, 
I have watched the strongest go—men 
Of pith and might and muscle—at your 


heels, 
182 


THE UNDERTAKER S HORSE. 


Down the plantain-bordered highway, 
(Heaven send if ne’er be my way!) 
In a lacquered box and jetty upon wheels. 


Answer, sombre beast and dreary, 

Where is Brown, the young, the cheery, 

Smith, the pride of all his friends and half 
the Force ? 

You were at that last dread dak 

We must cover at a walk, 


Bring them back to me, O Undertaker’s 
Horse! 


With your mane unhogged and flowing, 

And your curious way of going, 

And that business-like black crimping of 
your tail, 

E’en with Beauty on your back, sir, 

Pacing as a lady’s hack, sir, 

What wonder when I meet you I turn pale? 


It may be you wait your time, Beast, 
Till I write my last bad rhyme, Beast, 
183 


THE UNDERTAKER ’S HORSE. 


Quit the sunlight, cut the rhyming, drop 
the glass, 

Follow after with the others, 

Where some dusky heathen smothers 


Us with marigoldsin lieu of English grass. 


Or, perchance, in years to follow, 

I shall watch your plump sides hollow, 
See Carnifex (gone lame) become a corse, 
See old age at last o’erpower you, 

And the Station Pack devour you, 

I shall chuckle then, O Undertaker’s 


Horse! 


But to insult, gibe, and quest, I’ve 

Still the hideously suggestive 

Trot that hammers out the grim and warn- 
ing text, | 

And I hear it hard behind me, 

In what place soe’er. I find me:— 

‘‘Sure to catch you sooner or later 
Who’s the next ?” 

184 


A BALLADE OF JAKKO HILL. 


NE moment bid the horses wait, 
Since tiffin is not laid till three, 
Below the upward path and straight ° 
You climbed a year ago with me, 
Love came upon us suddenly 
And loosed—an idle hour.to kill— 
A headless, armless armory 
That smote us both on Jakko Hill. 


Ah Heaven! we would wait and wait 
Through Time and to Eternity! 
Ah Heaven! we could conquer Fate 
With more than Godlike constancy! 
I cut the date upon a tree— 
Here stand the clumsy figure still: 
‘6 r0-7—-85, A.D.” 
Damp with the mist on Jakko Hill. 


- What came of high resolve and great, 
And until Death fidelity ? 
185 


A BALLADE OF JAKKO HILL. 


Whose horse is waiting at your gate? 
Whose ’rickshaw-wheels ride over me ? 
No Saint’s, I swear; and—let me see 
To-night what names your programme 
fill— 
We drift asunder merrily, 
As drifts the mist on Jakko Hill! 


L’ENVOI, 


Princess, behold our ancient state 

Has clean departed; and we see 
’Twas Idleness we took for Fate 

That bound light bonds on you and me 
Amen! Here ends the comedy 

Where it began inall good will; 
Since Love and Leave together flee 

As driven mist on Jakko Hill! 


186 





CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ, 


I. 

\# It be pleasant to look on, stalled in 
the packed seraz, 

Does not the Young Man try Its temper 
and pace ere he buy? 

. If She be pleasant to look on, what does 
the Young Man say? 

Lo! She is pleasant to look on, give Her 
to me to-day. 


Il, 
Yea, though a Kafir die, to him is remitted 
Jehannum 
If he borrowed in life from a native at 
sixty per cent per annum. 


III, 
Blister we not for dursati? So when the 
heart is vext, 
The pain of one maiden’s refusal is 
drowned in the pain of the next. 
187 


CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ, 


IV. 
The temper of chums, the love of your 
wife, and a new piano’s tune— 
Which of the three will you trust at the 
end of an Indian June? 


v. 

Who are the rulers of Ind—to whom shall 
we bow the knee? 

Make your peace with the women, and 
men will make you L. G. 


VI. ; 

Does the woodpecker flit round the young 
ferash? Does grass clothe a new- 
built wall ? 

Is she under thirty, the woman who holds 
a boy in her thrall ? 


VII. 
If She grow suddenly gracious—reflect. 

Is it all for thee ? 
The black-buck is stalked through the 
bullock, and Man through jealousy. 

183 


CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ. 
VIII. 
Seek not for favor of women. So shall 
you find it indeed. 
Does not the boar break cover just when 
you're lighting a weed? 


EX. 
If He play, being young and unskilful, for 
shekels of silver and gold, 
Take His money, my son, praising Allah. 
The kid was ordained to be sold. 


x. 
With a ‘‘weed” among men or horses 
verily this is the best, 
That you work him in office or dog-cart 
lightly—but give him no rest. 


Fe 
Pleasant the snaffle of Courtship, improv- 
ing the manners and carriage; 
But the colt who is wise will abstain from 
the terrible thorn-bit of Marriage. 
189 


CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ. 


XII, 
As the thriftless gold of the daéul, so is 
the gold that we spend 
On a Derby Sweep, or our neighbor’s 
wife, or the horse that we buy froma 
friend, 


XIII. 
The ways of man with a maid be strange, 
yet simple and tame 
To the ways of a man with a horse, when 
selling or racing that same. 


XIV. 

In public Her face turneth to thee, and 
pleasant Her smile when ye meet. 

It is ill. The cold rocks of El-Gidar 
smile thus on the waves at their feet. . 

In public Her face is averted, with anger 
She nameth thy name. 

It is well. Was there ever a loser content 
with the loss of the game ? 


190 


CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ. 


XV. 

If She have spoken a word, remember thy 
lips are sealed, 

And the Brand of the Dog is upon him by 
whom is the secret revealed. 

If She have written a letter, delay not an 
instant, but burn it. 

Tear itin pieces, O Fool, and the wind to 
her mate shall return it! 

If there be trouble to Herward, and a lie 
of the blackest can clear, 

Lie, whiie thy lips can move or a man is 
alive to hear. 


XVI. 
My Son, if a maiden deny thee and 
scufflingly bid thee give o’er, 
Yet lip meets with lip at the lastward— 
get out! She has been there before. 
They are pecked on the ear and the chin 
and the nose who are lacking in lore. 


‘IQI 


CERTAIN MAXIMS OF HAFIZ, 


XVII. 

If we fall in the race, though we win, the 
hoof-slide is scarred on the course. © 

Though Allah and Earth pardon Sin, 
remaineth forever Remorse. 


XVIII. 

“By all I am misunderstood!” if the 
Matron shall say, or the Maid:— 
‘‘Alas! I do not understand,” my son, 

be thou nowise afraid. | 
In vain in the sight of the Bird is the net 
of the Fowler displayed. 


ixs 
My son, if I, Hafiz, thy father, take hold 
of thy knees in my pain, _ 
Demanding thy name on stamped paper, 
one day or one hour—refrain, 
Are the links of thy fetters so light that _ 
thou cravest another man’s chain? = 


192 





GRIFFEN’S DEBT, 




















was ‘* broke.” There- 
ea 

later, took to drink; 
st the balance of his 


g the Gauri villagers, 
shelter and a wife or twain, 
t a thorough, full-blood 


them. Thus he spent 


d to the village shroff 
ced for payment), always 
able, out-at-heels . 
he was an Englishman. 
ae 


GRIFFEN’S DEBT. 


You know they dammed the Gauri with a 
dam, 

And all the good contractors scamped 
their work, 

And all the bad material at hand 

Was used to dam the Gauri—which was 
cheap, 

And, therefore, proper. Then the Gauri 
burst, . 

And several hundred thousand cubic tons 

Of water dropped into the valley, /op, 

And drowned some five and twenty 
villagers, 

And did a lakh or two of detriment . 

To crops and cattle. When the flood 
went down 

We found him dead, beneath an old dead 
horse, 

Full six miles down the valley. So we 
said 

He was a victim to the Demon Drink, 

194 


GRIFFEN’S DEBT. 


And moralized upon him for a week, 
And then forgot him. Which was natural. 


But, in the valley of the Gauri, men 
Beneath the shadow of the big new dam 
Relate a foolish legend of the flood, 
Accounting for the little loss of life 
(Only those five and twenty villagers) 
In this wise: On the evening of the 
flood, 
They heard the groaning of the rotten 
dam, 
And voices of the Mountain Devils. Then 
An incarnation of the local God, 
Mounted upon a monster-neighing horse, 
And flourishing a flail-like whip, came 
dawn, 
Breathing ambrosia, to the villages, 
And fell upon the simple villagers 
With yells beyond the power of mortal 
throat, 
195 


GRIFFEN’S DEBT. 


And blows beyond the power of morta| 
hand, 

And smote them with the flail-like whip, 
and drove 

Them clamorous with terror up the hill, 

And scattered, with the monster-neighing 
steed, 

Their crazy cottages about their ears, 

And generally cleared those villages. 

Then came the water, and the local 
God, 

Breathing ambrosia, flourishing his whip, 

And mounted on his monster-neighing 
steed, 

Went down the valley with the flying trees 

And residue of homesteads, while they 
watched 

Safe on the mountain-side these wondrous 
things, 

And knew that they were much beloved 
of Heaven. 

~96 


GRIFFEN’S DEBT. 

Wherefore, and when the dam was newly 
built, 

They raised a temple to the local God, 

And burned all manner of unsavory things 

Upon his altar, and created priests, 

And blew into a conch, and banged a bell, 

And told the story of the Gauri flood 

With circumstance and much embroidery. 


So he the whiskified Objectionable, 
Unclean, abominable, out-at-heels, 
Became the tutelary Deity 

Of all the Gauri valley villages; 

And may in time become a Solar Myth. 


107 


L’ENVOL. 


(To whom it may concern.) 
HE smoke upon your Altar dies, 
The flowers decay, 
The Goddess of your sacrifice 
Has flown away. 
What profit then to sing or slay 
' The sacrifice from day to day? 


‘‘ We know the Shrineis void,’’ they said, 
‘« The Goddess flown— 

Yet wreaths are on the Altar laid— 
The Altar-Stone 

Is black with fumes of sacrifice, 

Albeit She has fled our eyes. 


‘“For, it may be, if still we sing 
And tend the Shrine, 
Some Deity on wandering wing 
May there incline ; 
And, finding all in order meet, 
Stay while we worship at Her feet.’’ 
198 


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Rudyard Kipling’s Latest Poem,.as Published by the London Times: 


‘THE BRIDGE GUARD ON THE KAROO” 


“And will supply details to guard the Blood River Bridge.” District Orklers-—Lines of Communication. 


UDDEN the desert changes— 


The raw glare softens and clings, 


Till the aching ’oudtshoord ranges 
Stand up like the thrones of kings— 


| Ramparts of slaughter and peril— 

| Blazing, amazing—aglow 

.?Twixt the skyline’s belting beryl 
And the wine-dark flats below. 


Royal the pageant closes, 
Lit by the last of the sun— 
Opal and ash-of-roses, 
Cinnamon, umber and dun. 


The twilight swallows the thicket, 
The starlight reveals the ridge; 
The whistle shrills to the picket, 


We are changing guard on the bridge. 


(Few, forgotten and lonely, 
tf Where the empty metals shir »— 
| No, not combatants—only 
Details guarding the line.) 


We slip through the broken panel, 
Of fence by the ganger’s shed— 

We drop to the waterless channel 
And the lean track overhead: 


We stumble on refuse of rations— 
The beef and the biscuit tins— 

We take our appointed stations 
And the endléss night begins, 


We hear the Hottentot herders 
As the sheep click past to the fold-— 
And the click of the restless girders 
AS the steel contracts in the cold— 


Voices of jackals calling 
And, loud in the hush between, 
A morsel of dry earth falling 


From the flanks of the scarred ravine. 


And the solemn firmament marches, 
And the hosts of heaven rise, 

Framed through the iron arches— 
Banded atid barred by th ties. 


| 





5 





Till we hear the far track humming, 
And we see her headlight plain; 

And we gather and wait her coming— 
The wonderful north-bound train. 


(Pew, forgotten and lonely, 

Where the white windows shine— 
No, not combatants—only 

Detaiis guarding the line.) 


Quick, ere the gift escape us, 
Out of the darkness we reach 
For a handful of week-old papers 
And a mouthful of human speech! 


And the monstrous heaven rejoices, 
And the earth allows again 
Meetings, greetings and voices 
Of women talking with men. 


So we return to our places, 
Ag out on the bridge she rolls; 
An@the darkness covers our faces, 
And the darkness re-enters our souls, 


More than a little lonely 

Where the lessening tail-lights shine. 
No—not combatants—only 

Details guarding the line! 





, during “eleven 
the 31st of May, by eleven 
the corresponding: 


yminion 
months 
millions of dollars over 

| period of last year. the exports of Canadian 
manufactured articles showing an increase 
Of two millions, or 17 per cent. 

If the gain for the whole year continues in 
Proportion to the past eleven months, the age 
stesate trade of this country will] Overtop the 
$400,000,000 mark. Between 1896 and 1901 
the trade has increased by $160;- 
000,000. that at a nything like that raté of 

= augmentation the country will not be much 
a Older annual trade wil} be 
® $500,000.000 

What this 1 best be appreciated 
when it is considered that the enormous for- 
elgn trade of the United States, in L888, was 
only three times sreater; the stil] more enors 
mous trade of Great Britain Only seven times 
greater It is nearly equal to Austria-Huns 
8ary, Italy or Belgium. Tt is almost double 
that of Spain, ana vastly outclasses the trade 
of Denmark, Sweden. Norway, Turkey, Ports 
ugal, Switzerland or 


ending 


ageregate 
50 


before its 


means eay 


Greece, 

The figures used for these compa 
those of 188s. taken from Mulhall's tables, In 
the list of the countries of the 
Stands the eleventh. 
progress and prosperity, 


rank the 


however, 
fifth, at least, Within 


she 
a decade, 


PRINCESS YOLANDE CHRISTENED 


will 


Daughter of the King 
ter of a Great Ceremonial, 
ROME, June 15. 
daughter of the 
who 


The Princess Yolande, 
King and Queen of Italy 
6 , 


was born June 1, was christened at the 


world Canada} 
At her present rate of | 


of Italy the Gene | 


Te 


risonsare | 


OS é a S. 
He livestat Burlington House, and is 


NMOVal Acdde c Eve 


the best 


(known painter of historical subjects, which, 


Ip 


‘ 


b 
4 
i 


f 
5; 


q 


| 


it! 


l the conviction that the agrarians 


while ranging over a period from the days 
of EHlizabeth to the present time, deal for the 
most part with military themes, such as 
those at the Royal Iixchange. “Napoleon 
Leaving Moscow” and “Oliver Cromwell at 
Marston Moor.’ 

He is still in the prime of life, as he is 
only 53, a couple af years younger than his 
fellow academician, Seymour Lueas, who 
has also been commissioned to paint a pic- 
ture for the king —namely, the reception of 
the Moorish embassy last Monday. 


FITCH WRITING A NEW PLAY. 


Charles Frohman Orders Drama Based 
on American Society. 


LONDON, June 15.—Clyde Fitch, who is at 
Carlsbad; has agreed to write for Charles 
Frohman a new play on American society, 
which will be produced by Annie Russell at 
the Lyceum Theater, New York. During 
the coming season Mr. Fitch’s ‘Captain 
Jinks of the Horse Marines”’ will be produced 
in’ London. 


Disappoints German Agrarians, 


BERLIN, June 15.—The agrarians are greatly 
disappointed with General von Podbielski, the new 
minister of agriculture, owing to his speech at the 
Halle Agricultural Exposition, in Which he expressed 
should be able to 
help jthemselyes in most cases unless in the case of 
crop \failures, ete. This opinion of General , yon 
Podbielski clashes greatly with his former utter- 
ances on the same subject, 

cree iges 

‘‘Orangeine’’ saves time for employers and em- 
ployed; gives instant relief and strength,—[ Ady, 


} 
} 





ard Likely to Fix June 25 as 

the Date for the Ceremonial, 
(SPECIAL CABLE DISPATCH TO THE CHICAGO) 
RECORD-HERALD, } 

LONDON, June 15.—The date of the cor-; 
onation is still the subject of a great deal of 
rash speculation. It is said the king favors) 
Wednesday and that June 25 will be selected | 


as the date. 
There is much nervousness as to who will 


Kin 


have places on that great day and who will 
be left out, for surely all Bngland’s aris-| 


tocracy cannot have places in the Abbey. 


One thing which will be interesting will. 


be to see if those ladies who are peeresses 
in their own right will be givena place apart 
at the coronation. If so, their doyen will be 
the Baroness Burdett-Coutts, and the 
youngest of them will be the late Karl of 
Darnley’s tiny daughter, the Baroness Clif- 
ton, not yet 1. year old, for whom a set of 
coronation robes is already being prepared. 


PARISIANS DRINK MORE ‘WINE, 


Consumption Has Increased 30 Per Cent 
in Six Months. 
[SPECIAL CABLE DISPATCH TO THE CHICAGO 
RECORD-HERA LD.] ; 
PARIS, June 15.—Since the, abolition of 


the municipal tax on wine Parisians buy. 


their wines directly from producers instead 
of from the middlemen, During the last 
six months the consumption of wine in Paris 
has increased 30 per cent. In 1899 Parisians 
drank 5,400,000 hectolitres. This year they 
will imbibe over 6,000,000 hectolitres. This 
is also due to the large consumption-of beer, 


{ 


} 


ANOTHER POEM FROM KIPLING, 


Contribution to Aid a Fund for Famit 
lies of British Recruits. 
SPECIAL CABLE. 
London, Oct. 31.—The New York Journal} cor- 
i respondent cables the following poem by Rud- | 
yard Kipling, the poet’s contribution to a fund 
for wives and children of the British army re- | 
| cruits sent to South Africa: 
When you’ve shouted ‘‘Rule Britannia,’’ when | 
you've sung “‘God Save the Queen,’’ 
When you've finished killing Kruger with 
i your mouth, 
Will you kindly drop a shilling in my little | 
tambourine 
For a gentleman in Khaki ordered south? 
| He’s an absent-minded beggar and his weak- 
nesses are great; 
But we and Paul must take him as we find} 
him. 
He is out on active service, wiping .something 4 
off a slate, 7 
And he’s Jeft alot of little things behind him. 
Duke’s sodn—Cook’s son—son of a nur ee 
kings— 
Fifty thousand horse and ‘foot goine to Table 
Bay. 
A Wach of ‘em doing his country’s work (and 
who’s to look after their things?) La 
Pass the hat for your credit’s sake and pay— 
pay—pay! | 
} There are girls he married secret, asking no 
permission to, 
Por he knew he wouldn’t get it if he did. ea 
There is gas and coals and vittles, and the | 
house rent falling due, 
And it’s more than rather likely there’s a kid. 
There are girls he walked with casual; they’ll 
be sorry now he’s gone, 
For an absent-minded beggar they will find 
him; \ 
But it ain’t the time for sermons with the 
winter coming on; 
We must help the girl that Tommy’s left be- 
hind him, 
So we'll help the homes our Tommy’s left be- 
hind him! 
eee S son—duke’s son—son of a belted earl; 
i Lambeth publican—it’s all the same to- 


doing his country’s work (and 
who's to look after the girl?) } 
Pass the hat: for your credit’s sake and pay— 
pay—pay!” 
There are families by thousands, far: too proud: 
to beg or speak, 
And they’ll put their sticks and bedding up 
the spout; 
And -they’il live on half o’ nothing paid ’em 
punctual once a week, 
“Cause the man that earned the wage is or-- 
dered out.”’ 
He’s an absent-minded beggar, but he heard 
his country’s call, 
And his reg’ment didn’t. need to send’-to 
find him; 
He chucked his job and joined it! So the job 
before us all 
Is to help the home that Tommy left behind 
him. 
Duke’s job—cook’s job—gardner, baronet, 
groom, 
Mews or palace or paper shop—there’s some 
one gone away, 
Hach of ’em doing his country’s work (and 
who’s to look after the room?) 
Pass the hat for your credit’s sake, and { 
pay—pay—pay. 
Let us manage so as later we can look’ him in 
the face, 
And tell him—what he’d very much prefer— 
That while he saved the empire his employer 
saved his place, 
And his mates (that’s you and me looked 
out-for her: 
He’s an absent-minded beggar, ane he may ‘for-: 
get it ‘all, 
But we do not want his kiddies to remind? 
him 
That we sent ’em to the workhouse while their 
daddy hammered Paul— 
Pass, the hat for your credit’s.’ sake,..and 
pay—pay—pay. 
Cook's “~home—duke’s home—home of a million- 
aire— 
(Fifty thousand horse and foot going to Table 
Bay). 
Hach of,.’em doing his country’s. work. (and. 
what have you got to spare?) 
Pass the hat for your credit's: sake, and 
pay—pay~-pay. ‘ 





isement, «xpecting to give a decision v 
‘lartigan was arrested on five warrant 4 
ng him with violating the flag law in the dis 
lay of pictures of the company’s store on th 
ront of which was a likeness of the Americ: 
miag in colored electric lights. 


R. Lewis, presented a request at the meeting of 
he justices of the peace in the Hamilton club | 

ae ast night that no further warrants be issued for 
plleged flag-law violations until the law could 
be amended or repealed. v wi 


VUDGE SCORES LABOR UNIONS. | 


mecnjoins Interference with Workmen | 
in a Glass Factory. 4 
Special to The Chicago Record. shar 
Pittsburg, Pa., Oct. 31.—Judge J. Wie 
bite, who, from the bench of Common Pleas 
ourt No. 2, denounced labor unions as “tyra 
_ this afternoon ha 


* 


Peepresident of the Flint | 
Mend others. Flaccus ask 
Festrain the defendants from ti 
Dur- 
Seng the hearing the union claimed authority 
wepver apprentices who had joined it.° The court 
mpays the union has no such authority, the rules 
minding the masters only. In the order granting 
mhe injunction Judge White wrote: it eh ea 
mee =f it were not for these independent factories 
mmany a worthy young man would be prevented 
miftom learning a trade, for in union factories the 
mamaster cannot take an apprentice without the | 
meeconsent of the union. Such rules and regulations 
meot these trade unions strike at the first principles 
mecf personal liberty in a free country; they are op- 
pressive and dangerous to the peace and good 
morder ef society.’ 


A 


i 


Cured of (uum 
Dr. McLaughy 


‘I 

Ht 
on 

ne 
d 


0 


on the floor, much less carry on my occupat 
very frequently, I needed assistance in the moi 
tical about Hiléctric Belts when I called on you, @ 
if IT could get one-half of the benefit you advertig 
prise it did everything you said it would. Te 
after only a few days’ use, and to-day, after thin 
as ever, and that without a particle of pain. 

av., city. Lhe BEA 


Cures Rheumatism, Lumbago, Kidney, L 
all diseases of the nerves, blood and muscles 
FREE BOOK-—To those who cannot cal’ 
The best proof is in a personal test. You car 
_ will gladly explain it and tell how it cures. _ 


Office Hours 8 a.m. 5 


to 8:30 p. m. 
Sundays 10 to 1. 





noe Se NERS HE Re oat 


ee ee 








